


Eclairs and Chocolate Kisses

by CharlotteAshmore



Series: Regency Rumbelle [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Historical, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 79,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2439434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteAshmore/pseuds/CharlotteAshmore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Regency London, Robert Gold, Duke of Sheffield has a dilemma…marry or else.  Unfortunately, the only little beauty he wants is completely unsuitable, fiery American empath Belle Whitmore.  Can he overcome her objections and claim her for his own? Or will the forces working against them keep them apart forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own ouat or any of its characters. Just for fun I’ve taken an original work and turned it into something that hopefully satisfies the Rumbelle love in all of us.
> 
> A/N: This is the first thing I’d written in 20 years…before I discovered fan fiction. I just decided to adapt it with an ouat twist. Thank you to AquaJasmine23 for beta-ing for me and convincing me to post this. And thank you to Emilie Brown for the delicious cover art. Love you, my girls!!!

London 1815

 

       “I still say it's a bloody waste of my time.” Dark eyes, so dark brown they were nearly black, scanned the crowded ballroom for anything that might somehow pique his interest.

       Jefferson's own eyes behind his mask twinkled with merriment at his friend's disgust.  The only reason he'd agreed to accompany Robert was for a good laugh at his misery.  And it wasn't because he enjoyed his closest friend's predicament, no.  It was because he had to see for himself that Robert didn't succumb to his mother's machinations.  Bachelorhood was, after all, no fun by one's self.

       Robert tossed down the scotch in his glass and frowned.  “I mean, look at them, Jeff.  Like a pack of wolves, they are.  All pushing their daughters at any man with a title,” he snorted in disgust.

       He was right, of course.  There was nothing worse than a mother with daughters on the hunt for a husband.  Said mothers would of course back eligible suitors into a corner to laud their daughter's attributes.  Which was why Robert Edward James Gold, fourth Duke of Sheffield, was standing far away from the dance floor, amusingly enough, obscured by a large potted fern.  He was one of the wealthiest men in England and therefore the most desirable catch for any of the ladies present at Lady Morrison's masked ball.

       “What did you expect, Robbie? Every season they're trotted out and presented and every season, you thumb your nose at them.  Dear Abby is just concerned for you, dear boy.  She wants you to have an heir.  She wants you to find happiness.”

       “She wants a grandchild, Jefferson, and you know it.”

       Jefferson grinned.  “Well, she's not going to get it with you hiding behind the potted plants all night.  How about repairing to the card room where I can relieve you of a couple hundred pounds? Have a few drinks and completely ignore your mother's edict.”

       Robert's eyes narrowed behind his black mask at his friend's reminder of his mother's decree.  It didn't help that the dowager duchess was the only person he could say he loved, and he just didn’t have it in him to tell her no.  He'd never let himself get close to anyone.  London was too jaded.  There was always someone wanting something and willing to do anything to get it.  Jefferson Madden, seventh Earl of Rochefort, was the only real friend he had.  They'd roomed together at Eton as boys and found a common thread that bound them together.  Both of them had attained their titles at a young age due to the deaths of their fathers.  All that responsibility was rather overwhelming at the tender age of thirteen.  Robert was serious about his duties and schooling, but Jefferson couldn't have cared less.  Robert had made top marks at Eton while Jefferson had nearly been booted out more than once, one of the reasons that Robert didn't take offense at Jefferson's ribbing.

       But the dowager's edict was weighing heavily on his mind this evening.  Three weeks ago, at the very start of the season, she'd called him on the carpet and demanded, no, more like commanded that he marry by the end of the season or else.  He shuddered at the thought of what his domineering mother meant by that “or else”.

       “We should've gone to the card room when we first arrived instead of ending up here.  Now we're trapped behind the ferns, because you just had to see what little lovelies are available this season.  Bloody waste of time.” Robert tugged at his cravat, which seemed to tighten with each passing moment.  Not with panic, but with anger at finding himself in such a godawful situation.  “I need a drink.”

       “Shit!”

       “What?”  Robert peered around the very edge of the fern and closed his eyes, praying for the floor to open and swallow him. “Bugger!  She must've seen you.” And really, how could anyone miss the garish plum frock coat and emerald brocade waistcoat his friend was wearing.  He made it his mission in life to be as audacious as possible to keep himself from being suitable husband material. 

       Jefferson bowed deeply to Lady Regina Morrison and graced her with an angelic smile.  “My dear, Lady Regina, how lovely you are this evening,” he said with a charming smile and dropped a kiss to her gloved hand.

       “Hmm,” she murmured doubtfully.  “Never mind that.  Why are the two most eligible bachelors in England hiding behind that ferns at my ball? Too cowardly to face the dragons?”

       Robert in turn bowed to his hostess and smirked.  Lady Regina fluttered her fan to cool herself.  That crooked grin had been known to make more than one innocent girl swoon over the years, and lord help them if he gave them a genuine smile.

       “Dragons is an apt term, for certain.”

       “Just wanted to check out this season's crop of lovelies undisturbed by mamas on the hunt. You understand,” Jefferson said in his smoothest voice so as to distract her from Robert.  She'd been trying for years to find a way into the duke’s bed, but had yet to succeed.  Not because of any certain desire for him, but more what his wealth and power could gain her.

       “Of course you did, my dear Rochefort.” She placed her hand on Jefferson's arm and leaned in close.  “I think I have a spot on my dance card reserved for you.”

       Robert raised a single dark eyebrow in amusement.  Jefferson wouldn't be able to talk himself out of dancing with their hostess, even though he would rather eat live eels first.  Lady Regina danced more on her partner's feet than on the dance floor, which was the only reason her dance card wasn't full.  Left with no choice, Jefferson led his hostess onto the crowded dance floor and abandoned Robert to his own devices.

       With Jefferson's absence, Robert perused the ballroom full of marriage minded fluff.  Some of them looked to be just out of the schoolroom.  Bloody hell! And there was his mother, seated on a divan near the edge of the dance floor, her eyes shooting daggers at him across the distance.   _Might as well have that drink on the way_ , he thought as he snatched a glass of amber liquid off of a serving tray.

       He dropped a kiss to the dowager's cheek and sat beside her. “Good evening, Mother, enjoying the festivities?”

       “You know the only reason I am here tonight is to make sure you are taking me seriously and trying to find a bride,” she sniffed imperiously. “And what were you doing?  Hiding.  Behind the ferns.  And you look awful this evening.  You need to cut your hair.  It's falling over your eyes,” she scolded in a meaningful hiss as she tugged at a lock of his collar-length brown hair.  “The least you could do is tie it back. . . “

       Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned.   _On and on_.  He knew she loved him, her only son and heir, but he wondered sometimes if she was only happy when she was harping on him about his appearance, his marital status and about life in general.

       “Mother, must you. . . “ Robert's voice trailed off.  He'd seen . . . _her_.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       “I really don't like this, August.  Really didn't know there were this many wastrels in all of England, much less London itself,” the petite brunette mused aloud as she scanned the ballroom with ill-concealed disdain behind the mask she wore.

       “Don't fret, luv.” August Whitmore said, smiling down at his sister.  “It's not like you have to marry any of them.  Just keep your eyes open and your ear to the ground and we might just make a pile of money.”

       “Right. Keep deluding yourself, brother.”

       She felt a shiver travel the length of her spine as the unmistakable feeling of being watched settled on her, raising the fine hairs on her nape.  August felt her stiffen where his hand rested on her back and he glanced down at her with concern.  “What's wrong?”

       Belle could feel them, those eyes, like a caress, eyes full of heat and promise. But she refused to turn around to see if she could distinguish who they belonged to.  No, she and August were here for one purpose- to rid England's aristocracy of as much money as possible and finally have a chance to go home to America.  She hated London with a flaming passion that would never be quenched. There wasn't a genuine person in the whole city…not even her dear aunt, Lady Regina.  She was just as bad as the rest of them.  She and August were tolerated in society because of her, but they would never be accepted.  Not her poor niece and nephew from America.

       Belle took her brother's arm and steered him in the direction of the card room.  “Nothing's wrong,” she assured him.

       “You're lying,” he accused, having the privilege of knowing her better than anyone, she being his twin and all.

       “Am not,” she argued petulantly.

       “You forget who you're talking to, sister dear.  You forget so easily that I share your gift,” he drawled lazily.

       “And now is not the time nor place for this discussion,” she warned.  “Go. Find yourself a game.  I won't be far.  And yes, I'll be listening.”

      

X*X*X*X*X

 

       “Mother, please cease your prattling and tell me who _she_ is.”

       “Who?”  The dowager immediately began scanning the ballroom to see who had finally piqued her son's interest.

       “The siren in the lavender gown.”  Lust instantly seized him, and he shifted uncomfortably upon the divan.  In three weeks, he'd seen no woman as lovely as she.  Her hair was such a vibrant chestnut, piled atop her head, which looked to be on fire as the auburn highlights were illuminated by the flickering candlelight.  He could only see her face in profile, her stubborn little nose, her fine cheekbones, but it was her neck that intrigued him. He wanted so badly to run his tongue along the curve of her neck and see for himself if she would moan with passion.  Robert shook his head to clear it.

       “Oh, her,” the dowager scoffed airily.  “She's not a suitable match for you, Robbie.”

       Robert cast his mother a disbelieving glance.  “I didn't ask you if she was a suitable match, Mother,” he growled.  “I asked who she was.”

       “That just so happens to be Lady Regina's niece, Belle Whitmore, along with her twin brother August.” Abigail Gold lowered her voice.  “They're from America.  It was quite the scandal.  Their parents, Regina's brother and that trollop he married were said to have died in a very suspicious carriage accident.  But upon further inspection it was discovered that their carriage wheel had been tampered with.  Suspicion fell upon the son. Their only recourse was to hie away to England to escape a mob that was after him.  Like I said,” she murmured, taking a sip of her champagne. “Quite the scandal.  They were fortunate Regina looked beyond the scandal and took them in.  Although one has to wonder at her motivations, because that woman does nothing unless it somehow has something in it for her.  Avaricious little tart.”

Robert ignored her comment about Regina, the dowager never having seen eye to eye with her, as a slow smile began to form on his lips. “She's fascinating,” he breathed, tossing back the contents of his glass.

       Abigail groaned inwardly, for she could see the signs. “Robbie, no!  She is not a suitable prospect for you.  You need someone of good breeding and refinement to be the next Duchess of Sheffield.”

       Robert kissed his mother's cheek and flashed her a brilliant smile. “Who said anything about marriage?”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Jefferson led Lady Regina to the edge of the dance floor, trying his best not to grimace at the pain in his aching feet.  “Always a pleasure, milady,” he said drolly.  He caught Robert out of the corner of his eye and made his way through the crowd to intercept his friend on his way to the card room.

       “Where are you going in such a hurry, Robbie?” he asked, falling into step behind him.

       “Card room.”

       “Yes, dear boy, that's obvious.  But why the rush?”

       “Belle,” Robert said simply and stepped around him, a wolfish grin curving his thin lips.

       Jefferson frowned at the brushoff and turned on his heel to follow, only to be brought up short to avoid crashing into Robert's back.  He inhaled sharply.  Being a good three inches taller than his friend, there was no doubt that he was seeing the object of Robert’s desire.  “Wow.”

       “Don't even think about it, Jeff.  This one's mine,” the duke said, chancing a glance at his friend’s widening eyes and slack jaw.

       “She's glorious.  Who is she?”

       “Lady Regina's niece.”  Robert's eyes moved over Belle's face, trying to determine the color of her eyes. Damn Regina for making this a masked ball.  He wanted- no, needed- to see her face unobscured, and that wasn’t all he wanted to see.  He wanted her in his bed.

       “Uh oh.  I know that look, Robbie,” Jefferson said with a grin.  “She won't have you.”

       Robert glanced sharply at his friend.  “What makes you say that?”

       “She's the one that everyone's been gossiping about.  My sources tell me she's not marriage minded, hates London and thinks the gentry are a load of wastrels.” Jefferson snorted, turning his attention to the occupants of the room. “Fancy a game?”

       Robert shot him an annoyed look.  “Find us one where I have her in sight.  Something's not right about her.”

       “What do you mean by that?” the earl asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

       “Think of her as a wolf among the sheep.  She's much more than she seems and I intend to find out every one of her secrets.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle's breath caught in her throat.  The eyes were back, burning her with passion so strong it nearly crushed her.  August called it a gift; she thought of it as more of a curse.  It was nearly suffocating to feel other’s emotions.  She had enough problems dealing with her own, but to feel someone's deepest emotions like they were your own was overwhelming.  And she could definitely feel his and knew without a doubt that he wanted her.  It wasn't the first time she'd felt it over the years, but somehow this time was different.  She was afraid to look, to find out who those feelings belonged to.  The lavender mask covering most of her face seemed to help, to bolster her courage, and she raised her eyes to where _he_ was sitting, playing whist.

       And now she wished she hadn't.  Her eyes met his and she nearly crumpled to the floor.  She'd never seen such heat in a man's eyes, eyes that were so deep brown they were almost black, eyes that could suck her soul right out and drown her with passion.  His hair was light brown and fell over his brow and she wanted to brush it away with her fingertips.  But his mouth- she couldn't stop staring at his mouth.  His smile, so seductive, was mesmerizing.  She could almost feel those sensual lips on hers and she moaned inwardly, cursing the mask covering his face.  She wanted to see all of him.

       Belle gripped the back of her brother's chair and fought for composure.  What was wrong with her?  This man was clearly English and she wanted nothing to do with the English aside from lightening their pockets. This was entirely too dangerous for her, and knew she had to get away.  Because it wasn't just his passion and desire that she'd felt, but her own.

       “August,” she whispered in her brother's ear, “I'm going to take a stroll on the terrace.  I'm in desperate need of air.”

       “But--”

       But Belle had already slipped out the French doors behind him.  To hell with what she was supposed to be doing, she thought irritably.  She couldn't concentrate… hell, she couldn't breathe with that man in the same room.  Walking to the balustrade, she took a deep breath, hoping the cool night air would go a long way in helping to calm her.  And then she felt him and her heart stopped.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert stepped to Belle's side and inhaled deeply.  She was intoxicating.  Just standing next to her was nearly unbearable so badly did he want to touch her.  What was wrong with him, for her to have such an effect on him?

       “Miss Whitmore,” he said smoothly, his voice a velvet caress. “I don't think we've been formally introduced.”

       “Exactly, so if you will excuse me,” she managed to get out without choking on her tongue.  Panic was welling inside her, and she hated that feeling more than any other.  She wasn't used to succumbing to her emotions, always having to be in control, but this man was sapping it away from her.  She turned on her heel to escape back into the card room, but was brought up short, his hand capturing hers.

       “No, I don't believe so.” Robert's voice, his eyes, and that floof of hair over his brow were a lethal combination on her senses, rooting her to the spot, preventing her escape.  She was frozen in her attraction for this man and she didn't even know his name.

       “I--”

       “Yes, you are Lady Regina's niece from America.  The lovely Miss Belle Whitmore,” he interjected, the pad of his thumb brushing over the back of her hand in a most distracting caress.

       “Yes, I am.” Belle tried to draw her hand from his, but Robert held on tight.  “And who, sir, are you?”

       Robert bowed low over her hand and instead of dropping a kiss on her knuckles, quickly turned her hand and placed his lips to her palm.  Fire coursed through her veins from the heat of that simple kiss and she gasped.

       “I am Robert Gold, but my friend's call me Robbie.”

       _Robbie indeed_. _I am_ not _calling him Robbie, no matter how tempting_ _…_ _Ack!_ _I'm losing it._ _I'm losing my control because of some English devil come to bewitch me!_  She took a deep breath and fought for control.

       Belle smiled sweetly. “It's so nice to meet another member of the peerage whom I have no desire to converse with,” she retorted in an acerbic tone, her smile vanishing just as quickly as it appeared.  “Good night, _Mister_ Gold.”  She snatched her hand from his grip and turned on her heel, swiftly returning to the card room and her brother's protective side, his soft laughter following her through the door.

       August caught Belle in his arms and steadied her as she burst through the door.  “What's the matter with you,” he whispered heatedly in her ear.  “You're broadcasting your emotions all over the room.  It's quite unsettling, that.”

       “Nothing, I--” Belle stopped, taking in the gaping stares of those at the whist table.  She straightened her shoulders and fixed August with a blank stare.  “I think I should like to retire now.”

       “But it's early, yet.” He lowered his voice. “And we've work to do.”

       “Not now,” she said firmly and pushed away from her brother.  As if she could concentrate on her task with that man in the house.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert was smiling when he returned to the card room.  So, Miss Belle Whitmore from America, with her disdain for all things English, wasn't immune to his charm.

       “What are you so happy about?” Jefferson asked as Robert resumed his seat at the table and picked up his freshly dealt hand.

       Robert simply raised a brow as he perused his cards.  “Nothing special.” And Jefferson knew from years of experience that Robert would tell him everything when they were alone in his study with a full glass of his finest scotch, ready to plan his next move.  He could understand the man’s unwillingness to speak in mixed company, but he'd be willing to bet a hundred quid that it had everything to do with one audacious little American.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       At two in the morning, Jefferson was indeed sitting in Robert's study at Sheffield House on Thornton Avenue plotting their next move. He refilled his glass and remained silent, waiting for Robert to begin.

       “Who do we know in Regina’s home that can get us the information I need?  God knows you've dallied with every wench from here to Northumberland.  You might even be able to get it from Regina herself,” Robert mused.

       Jefferson nearly choked on his scotch.  “I'm not getting near Lady Regina with her big feet,” he snorted.  “Besides, you're the one she fancies.”

       “All I want to know is where Belle is going to be tonight,” Robert said icily, refusing to respond to his friend’s attempt to rile him.

       “And tomorrow night? And the night after?” Jefferson queried, grinning knowingly.

       Robert frowned and set his drink on the desk.  “Yes.  That way, I will be sure to attend the same parties.  Why waste my time on attending a function she's not.  She's the one I want and I'm not going to stop until I have her.”

       Robert pondered that for a moment.  Why did he want her so badly? What was so damn special about her? Aside from the fact that she made his blood turn to fire in his veins, and made him ache with the need to possess her.  Was that enough to make him want to commit himself to her in the unholy state of matrimony, something he'd sworn he'd never do?

       “Robbie?”

       “Sorry, lost in thought there for a moment.” Robert picked up his drink and stared into the amber liquid.

       “I think I might be able to pull this off for you.  One of the footman, Jack, I believe, is involved with Mandy, Lady Regina's maid.  He might be able to persuade her to get the information on your lady love,” Jefferson said, tossing back the remainder of his scotch. “But, Robbie--”

       “What?”

       “Are you sure this is what you want?” Jefferson placed both hands flat on the desk and stared thoughtfully at his friend.  “You have never in your life just jumped head first into any situation.  You've always been the one to weigh each and every action and reaction.   _You've_ always been the one who looks at every possible consequence before you decide to act.   _I'm_ the reckless one. _I'm_ the one to say 'fuck it'.  So what the hell is going on?”

       Robert didn't answer.  Did he even have an answer?  Jefferson was right. Robert had never made a bad decision in his life.  What if he was about to make the first one? Did he care?  He closed his eyes and brought up Belle's image in his mind, desire flooding his body at the thought of creamy alabaster skin and bright cerulean eyes.  He imagined the dark halo of her hair spread out across his naked chest.

       “Yes, Jefferson.  Belle Whitmore is going to be the new Duchess of Sheffield and she doesn't even know it.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle was sitting at her dressing table brushing out her hair when August stormed through the door, his icy blue eyes flashing daggers at her and color high in his cheeks.

       “What the hell is wrong with you, Belle? An entire night-- wasted!  Wasted, I say!” August thundered.

       “Will you lower your voice?” Belle hissed, never having appreciated her brother’s tendency towards drama.  “You're going to disturb the entire household.  And I'm so bloody sorry that I ruined your evening.”

       August stopped short. “God's beard!  You're beginning to sound like them.”

       “Stop it, Auggie.  I am not.” She paused and thought about what he'd said.   _Damn_!  “Well, maybe I am.  You can't expect to live in a country and not pick up on certain things, speech being one of them.” Anger began to burn in her chest.  It was that damn Robert Gold.  He'd been gone for hours.  She knew this for a fact because she'd watched his carriage leave, yet still she couldn't stop thinking about him.

       August sat down next to her on the bench before her dressing table and hugged her.  “Come on, Belle, really.  What's going on with you?  This plan of ours is all we talked about on the voyage over from America.  What's got you so out of sorts?  And don't think you can fool me.  I can _feel_ you.  Anger, confusion and….desire?   _Desire_?  Who the hell could incite that in you; the ice queen?”

       “Enough, Auggie,” she warned in a low tone.

       “Oh, no you don't.  I want to know.  It's my job to protect you from these vile English dogs,” he replied, his lip curling back in a sneer.

       “Vile English dogs? Really? Isn't that a little overdramatic? And stop reading me.  You know I don't like it.  It's an invasion of my privacy.  You don't like it when I read you.”  The brush caught onto a tangle and she winced.  She was tired, emotionally drained and she didn't need to sit here and answer August’s questions in the state she was in.  She closed her eyes and immediately an image of darker than dark passion filled eyes flooded her mind, making her gasp.

       “See!  There it is again.  Who is he?” August roared, pointing his finger at her.

       Belle knew the best thing to do was change the subject, quickly. “So, where are we going tomorrow night?”

       “Lord and Lady Mansfield are hosting a ball.  It's supposed to be _the_ event of the season.” August stopped abruptly and glared at his sister.  “Nice try, luv.  Who is he?”

       “No one.   _He's_ no one; just a guest at the ball,” she said calmly, trying to be evasive and having no luck.  Her brother was just too perceptive for _her_ own good.

       “Name,” he demanded, glaring at her.

       “Rank and battalion too?” she quipped icily.

       “Don't be obtuse, dear girl.  I just want to know his name,” August said softly.

       “Robert Gold..”  Heat flooded her cheeks, remembering how he had kissed her palm.  She fisted her hand, banished away the sensations that ghosted over her flesh at the memory.

       “There it is again!  You want this man…and don't bother trying to deny it either.  It's coming off of you in waves, Belle.”

       “Keep your voice down, Auggie..  Please,” she pleaded.  “Yes. I'm mildly attracted to him. Happy? I admitted it.”

       “Mildly? Mildly!  I don't think so, dear girl.  I know what passion is and I don't think I've ever felt like _that_ about anyone before.” August began pacing back and forth behind her.  “But it's going to be fine.  Tomorrow I'm going to find out everything I can about this Robert Gold and put a stop to this nonsense. Then maybe we can get back to work.”

       With that he swept out of the room, finally leaving her in peace.  Belle extinguished the lamp and crawled into bed, staring at the ceiling, afraid to close her eyes.  She knew sleep would be long in coming because if she closed her eyes, she would see _his_ eyes, feel _his_ lips on her palm and dream of what it would be like to have _him._

There was no other solution to the problem with Gold; she had to avoid him at all costs.  She couldn't let him distract her from her task.  It was the only way she was going to be able to leave this wretched country.  She was going to put him out of her mind and never see him again.

       _Oh, who am I kidding?_

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert and Jefferson dragged themselves downstairs at nine o'clock to have breakfast with the dowager duchess when what they really wanted was to go back to bed and sleep off the effects of too much drink from the night before.  Robert felt like he hadn't slept at all, dreams of cerulean eyes, chestnut hair and lush pink lips keeping him up most of the night.  He'd wakened in a state of need unlike any he'd ever suffered, and now he had to drag himself, bleary eyed and all, downstairs to have breakfast with his mother. _Oh joy!_

“Good morning, Jefferson,” Abigail said cheerfully as Jefferson strolled into the dining room and kissed her cheek.

       “Good morning, Your Grace.  Looking as lovely as I've ever seen you,” he complimented the dowager, smiling through the pounding of his skull.

       “That'll do, dear boy,” she said sternly, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.  He could tell she was pleased.

       “Good morning, Mother,” Robert mumbled and kissed her cheek, just as he did every morning, before moving off to the sideboard to pile a plate high with sausages and eggs.

       The dowager frowned at them both. “You two look absolutely disgraceful.”

       “Here we go,” Robert groaned as he poured himself a cup of coffee, foregoing his usual tea in favor of something stronger.

       Jefferson tried to raise a brow, but the pounding in his head prevented it.  “I beg your pardon?”

       “Absolutely disgraceful.  Out until all hours of the morning, drowning yourselves with drink and God only knows what else,” she scolded.

       Jefferson waggled his eyebrows at the dowager, earning a scowl from her and turned to Robert.  “By the by, Robbie.  I took care of that matter we discussed last night.  We should have the answer by noon or so.”

       Robert's head jerked up at the news, causing him to wince in pain at the sharp movement. “Jack said he'd do it?”

       “He's on his way now,” Jefferson assured him.  He’d gotten up earlier than his norm to send for the man to be certain they had the information before Abigail decided on what function she’d be attending that evening…and browbeating the two of them into accompanying her.

       Robert smiled for the first time that morning. “Excellent!”

       Abigail's narrowed eyes moved from one to the other of _her boys._  She loved Jefferson just as much as Robert.  He'd been the only boy at school with her son who hadn't been afraid to befriend the young duke.  Jefferson had stuck by him throughout the years, more brothers than friends.  She never understood why he'd never wanted to visit his own mother on holidays, preferring to spend them at Sheffield in Sussex.  But she was thankful for Jefferson's presence in Robert's life.  And she loved him for it.

       “What are you two on about?” she asked suspiciously.

       “Nothing to concern yourself, Mother.” Robert shot Jefferson a warning look and sat back in his chair to drink his coffee.  He knew Abigail hated him to drink coffee, but it was the only thing that would help his head this morning.

       Abigail's eyes narrowed more, if that was even possible, and Robert shifted in his seat.  “This is about that girl from America, isn't it?”

       “Can't slip anything by you, Abby,” Jefferson quipped around a mouthful of bacon.

       Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and waited for the vein in his mother's forehead to explode.  And waited.  He cracked an eye open and peered at her through his fingers.  Nothing.  Wait!  She was clenching her teeth dangerously hard.   _Yep, time to go to the club._  He shot Jefferson a panicked look and stood up.

       “Stop.  Right.  There.”

       _Well, just. . . shit!_ “I am not discussing this with you, Mother,” Robert said calmly, resuming his seat.

       Abigail's brows shot up into her hair. “You'd like to think so.” She cast Jefferson a warning look that said helping Robert in this endeavor would bring down her wrath upon his head.

       “Uh, Robbie, I'll see you at the club,” Jefferson mumbled and left Robert alone with his mother.

       _Traitor!!!_

“If you persist in this folly, you will bring down a scandal upon our family the likes of which this town has never seen.  She's an American.  Did you forget we are not on the best terms with them right now?” Abigail was outwardly calm, and only because he knew her so well could he tell just how truly furious she was.

       He opted for an equally calm tone.  “No, Mother, I haven't forgotten.”

       “This girl is also embroiled in a scandal in her home state of Maine, involving the _murder_ of her parents.  Said parents left England because her father, Maurice married someone completely unsuitable. And by unsuitable I mean that she was common, so far beneath his station that his family _and_ society would never accept their marriage.  You _cannot_ allow yourself to become involved with this girl.”  Abigail sat back and sipped her tea, ignoring the fact that Robert was so angry the muscle was ticking in his jaw.

       Robert stood up and smiled tightly.  “Mother, I love you, therefore I will take your words under advisement, but the ultimate decision is mine.  The woman I choose to be my duchess has to be pleasing to _me,_ and me alone.  Remember that.”

       “But why are you so set on this girl?” Abigail persisted.  “What is so special about her?”

       Robert leaned down and kissed his mother's cheek.  “Because, Mother, her mere presence makes me feel something besides boredom and disdain.  She simply makes me _feel_.”  And with that he left the house for his gentleman’s club, leaving his mother, for the first time, at a loss for words.


	2. Chapter 2

“So where the bloody hell is she?” Robert hissed furiously. He was standing in the middle of the Mansfield's ballroom in a tightly controlled ball of fury. “Your man reported that she was going to be here. So where is she?”  
Jefferson quirked a brow and continued his search of the room. “You know, Robbie, it's still early. Lady Regina isn't even here yet. We could be having a drink at the club right now, but no, you wanted to be here when Belle arrived.”  
Robert sighed and then took a calming breath. “You remember the plan?”  
“Yep,” he said, his lips making a popping sound as he rocked back on his heels.  
“And?” the duke asked impatiently.  
Jefferson chuckled under his breath, delighted to see his old friend so taken with the girl. “When she arrives I am to approach her and sign her dance card, but instead of putting my name on the card, I put yours.” His brow furrowed. “Why are we doing this again?”  
Robert smiled, remembering their meeting the previous evening. “Let's just say she and I didn't exactly hit it off.”  
“Must be losing your touch, old boy.”  
“That'll do, Jefferson.” Robert's tone was low and menacing, and Jefferson knew when to give over. “I don't want anything to keep me from spending time with her this evening. Nothing. Dammit, what is she doing here?”  
Jefferson turned to see who Robert was glaring at and cringed. “I thought Abby was staying in tonight. Well, this doesn't bode well for any of us, now does it?”  
Robert stiffened when Abigail changed direction and headed their way. “Brace for impact,” he warned Jefferson from the side of his mouth. Abigail Gold stopped before them, kissed them both and wished them a good evening before leaving them to join her cronies.  
“What just happened?” Jefferson asked, bewildered.  
“I have no idea, but I am suddenly quite queasy,” the duke murmured as he watched his mother move off through the growing crowd of the ton.  
“Look,” Jefferson said, nudging Robert with his elbow. “There's your lady love now.”  
“The game is afoot!” Robert rubbed his hands together in anticipation and gave Jefferson a slight shove off in Belle’s direction.  
God, she was lovely in her silver evening gown. A single diamond pendant dangled from her lovely neck, the same one she'd worn the night before. His eyes darkened with desire as he gazed at that lovely neck. Belle's eyes flew to his in that moment and his desire grew. Her lips parted on a tiny gasp as his gaze captured hers, and he wondered if she was feeling it too. Jefferson had reached her and Robert smiled as his friend signed her card.   
Soon, sweetheart. Soon, you'll be in my arms and there will be no escape.  
August remained by Belle's side glaring at every man that signed her dance card. “Is that him?”  
“No, Auggie.”  
“Is that him?”  
“No, Auggie.”  
“Is--” He stopped abruptly and glanced down at her fingernails digging into his wrist. “God's teeth, Belle! That really hurt.”  
“Bugger off, brother dear, before I dig my nails into something a little more sensitive than your wrist,” she hissed through clenched teeth. He was making her crazy with his constant pestering.  
It didn't help matters when he came home from his club this afternoon and dropped a bomb on her. It seemed that Robbie just happened to be a bloody duke. A duke! God's toenails! What was she supposed to do with that? Robert Edward James Gold, fourth Duke of Sheffield. She groaned inwardly. And he was here. It felt like a thousand butterflies had been let loose in her belly. She'd felt him the moment his eyes touched her and she'd nearly died when he caught her gaze.   
Oh, I am in so much trouble.  
Belle held out her card for one last suitor to sign.   
“Is that-- nevermind.” August subsided, pulling her to the side and looking over her card. “His name's not on here.”  
“No, it isn't,” she said distractedly. Maybe she’d been mistaken about his interest in her.  
“You sound disappointed.”  
The weight of her disappointment was nearly crushing her. Why hadn't he asked for a dance? She knew he couldn't have been intimidated by her brother. The duke was too confident in his manner to ever be intimidated by August. Belle frowned. Could she have misread him? Was she wrong about him? Were these just her feelings instead of his? No. She was certain the desire she'd felt had come from him. She refused to believe she was wrong.  
“Who is this?” August said, frowning at the unfamiliar name on her card. “I've never heard of him before?”  
“August, he's the tall lord dressed in the deep emerald jacket,” she said, pointing Jefferson out to her brother. “James something? I can't make it out. Bad penmanship. You would think a lord of the realm would have better penmanship.” She frowned, watching the same lord make his way over to Robert Essex. Unease began to unfurl in her stomach, but she pushed it aside, reminding herself that this was the easy part. The hard part of her task would come later tonight.  
“How many dances total before you can join me in the card room?” August asked, scanning the crowd trying to guess which guest was the object of Belle’s desire.  
“Five,” she replied woodenly, her eyes finally settling on Robert. He was even more handsome without the mask, if that was possible. And all she could think about was brushing that lock of hair away from his eyes. Belle shivered.  
“Who are you looking at? You're broadcasting again. Do you want just anyone to pick up on what you're feeling? Where is he?”  
Thankfully, at that moment, her first dance partner swooped in to save her from revealing Robert's identity. August reached out to her with his gift and read her feelings. Satisfied that the bloke she was dancing with wasn't Gold, he set out for the card room.

X*X*X*X*X

“What bloody number did you sign?” Robert hissed.  
“Four.”  
“What?” Robert asked incredulously, glowering at his friend. “That pack of wolves must've been waiting at the bloody door ready to jump on her the second she walked in.”  
Lord Wascom twirled Belle past the spot Robert was occupying at the edge of the dance floor and Jefferson winced. “You would think that he's been taking dance lessons from Lady Regina. That's the third time he's stepped on her toes. Damn, Robbie, you'll be lucky if her feet survive to her fourth dance.”  
“I just may have to invite Wascom into the ring next time he's at the club.”  
“I don't know a chap stupid enough to accept one of your invites into the ring,” Jefferson chuckled.  
Robert's eyes narrowed on Wascom as he missed another step and smashed the toe of Belle’s silk slipper once more. He didn't realize that Jefferson was holding his arm until his friend spoke. “What the hell do you think you're doing, Robbie?”  
Those words were like a splash of cold water in his face. He'd been about to rescue Belle from the dance floor, which would've been quite damaging to her reputation, that. Damn! What was this girl doing to him? Robert made himself relax and leaned against the marble pillar next to him in a casual pose, crossing his arms over his chest.  
“Well, let's be thankful you've come to your senses,” Jefferson retorted acidly.  
“Wait. I think she's about to create a scandal of her own,” Robert said, a devilish smile lighting his face.  
Belle stopped in the middle of the dance floor, said something to Wascom and stalked off to the retiring room. Jefferson burst out laughing and grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, offering one to Robert.  
“Oh, Robbie, that was too delicious. When you claim your dance, you just have to find out what she said to him,” he said, gesturing towards the dandy slinking his way off the parquet floor. “Look, he's crushed. Do you think he's going to cry?” Jefferson was laughing so hard, tears were coursing down his face.  
“Come on, lad. You're drawing attention and the dragons smell fresh meat.”  
“Bloody hell!”  
“Remember, Jeff, I'm not the only desirable title in the room,” Robert said, pursing his lips to keep his own laughter at bay.  
“Card room.” And with that Jefferson turned on his heel and disappeared into the gaming room, leaving Robert alone to face the mamas seeking marriage for their daughters.  
Robert bowed deeply to them all and turned on his heel to find a new vantage point. And another drink, this one a bit stronger than the champagne Jefferson had offered him. Belle was just leaving the dance floor with suitor number two. Thank heavens. Two down, one to go.

X*X*X*X*X

Well, at least it's not another waltz. My feet are never going to be the same.  
Belle looked into the kohled eyes of her partner and inwardly shuddered. English fop! How had she gotten involved in this debacle? And she'd lost sight of Robert. Where was he? Oh, she could feel him, but she couldn't see him. She'd become quite alarmed when she was dancing with Lord Wascom, and not because he was butchering her feet. No, when he'd twirled her past Robert, she could feel something different in him…jealousy and seething rage. He was jealous? Why? He had no claim on her. Just what was he playing at? And where was he?  
She was still looking for any sign of Robert as Lord Newberry led her off the floor to her next suitor. She glanced quickly at her card to see that it was Lord James bad penmanship. Her head snapped up from her perusal of her card, feeling him before she spotted him.. He clasped her hand firmly in his and pulled her into his arms, twirling her onto the floor to the tune of a waltz and the breath hitched in her throat..  
“Breathe, dearie.. Now that I finally have you in my arms, I don't want you to have any excuse to escape them just yet,” Robert said, his voice a soft caress that washed over her and set the butterflies to full flight in her stomach. And those eyes of his…deep sinful pools of sable. She could lose herself in them forever, she thought, shaking her head slightly to clear it.   
Not working. Starting to panic. Ack!  
“Deep breath, please,” he coaxed, his eyes roaming over her face with an appreciative glance.  
Belle took a deep breath and tried to smile back at him, but the desire she was feeling from him on top of her own, was robbing her of coherent thought. “I--”  
Robert was beginning to grow concerned. “Belle, take a bloody breath. In a moment you're going to pass out and embarrass yourself on this dance floor,” he hissed, hoping the menace in his voice would shock her out of her stupor.  
Belle sucked in a deep breath, several in fact. “What the hell are you playing at?”  
Robert was actually surprised. “What do you mean?”  
“You didn't sign my card and I'm pretty sure your name isn't James,” was all she could think to say, her eyes flashing fire at him with anger or desire, she couldn't be sure. She was a bundle of nerves and all she wanted was for him to pull her closer.  
Get a grip, girl! You are NOT here for a husband. Especially an English bloody lord!  
Breathing was beginning to come easier now that he'd lost his smile. But she wasn't sure she wanted him frowning at her either. His desire was still pounding at her, but hers had been reduced to a low boil.  
“After your reaction to my mere introduction last night, I was afraid you wouldn't want to dance with me.” He peered more closely into her eyes, using the closer proximity to unnerve her. “Or is it that you do and don't want to admit it.”  
Belle was losing her focus.  
Don't look into his eyes, idiot. Look anywhere else.  
She glanced at a spot over his left shoulder and tried to gather her thoughts. “I don't think so. And you weren't exactly truthful with that introduction, Your Grace,” she snapped.  
“Can you blame me? I wanted you to think of me as just another person.” He leaned into her as he spun her around in his arms and whispered in her ear. “Not a title.”  
Her heart lodged in her throat and her gaze snapped to his..  
Damn! Getting lost in an abyss would be easier than this. Panic I can deal with. Soul sucking deep brown eyes, not so much. Think of something else!  
“Titles don't interest me, Your Grace nor does the English aristocracy. I'm here because I have to be, not because I wish to be,” she said disdainfully. “I want nothing more than to go home, but alas, we can't always have what we want.”  
Robert suddenly spun her off the dance floor, out the terrace door and into the moonlit rose garden that graced the rear of the Mansfield mansion. Belle felt panic rising in her. She was no longer in the safety of the ballroom, but in a moonlit garden with a man she wanted, no needed. She yearned for him to touch her. Fear was panic's best friend and he was moving in, nearly choking her with his presence. He reached out and brushed a lone curl that had escaped her coiffure behind her ear and she stilled.  
“Can you ride?” he asked roughly, his voice filled with emotion, his hand still cupping her face.  
“W-what?” she stammered, trying to concentrate on his words instead of what he was making her feel with his simple touch.  
“Can you ride? Horses?” he asked, his lilting accent causing heat to pool low in her belly.  
“Oh, of course. Why?” she asked, her gaze dropping to his mouth, mesmerized.  
Robert cupped her other cheek and moved closer. “I would very much like to take you riding in Hyde Park tomorrow morning.” His lips were mere inches from hers now. She knew what he was doing, knew he was trying to be gentle with her, that he was doing his best not to frighten her with his desire.  
“Would you like to go with me?” Closer.  
Have you lost your bloody mind? What the hell are you doing?  
Shut up!  
Belle placed her hands on his chest to steady herself. Of course, that's all the encouragement Robert needed. And she was lost as he brushed his lips to hers, claiming hers with the gentlest of kisses. Her desire nearly crippled her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue skimming lightly along her lips, his breath mingling with hers. Never had she let anyone get close enough to kiss her. No one had ever moved her, made her feel before. His hands moved to her neck, his fingers digging into the hair at her nape, his thumbs moving in slow circles over her pulse points until she moaned into his mouth. And then he pulled away from her.  
“Open your eyes, luv,” he whispered against her lips.   
No! Kiss me again.  
“What did you say?” Robert asked, frowning in confusion. Belle's eyes flew open. He couldn't possibly have heard her. He couldn't hear her thoughts. That was impossible. Wasn't it?  
“Nothing. Why?” she asked, dropping her hands and stepping back.  
“I must've imagined it.” He took her hand in his and led her back onto the terrace. “So, again I ask. Would you like to go riding in the park tomorrow morning?”  
Belle worried her lower lip with her teeth, considering all the ramifications if she were to agree. Head or heart? Which would lead her better? “Alright,” she said hesitantly.  
Her knees nearly gave out at the pulse of pure pleasure that welled up in him, his smile brilliant. “I will be at Lady Morrison's at ten o'clock to collect you.”  
Robert dropped a kiss to her palm and sent heat racing through her once again, then opened the terrace door and gave her a gentle nudge inside. Of course, it wouldn't be proper to be seen coming in from the terrace with him. What was she thinking? With him around, she was incapable of good sense, and later she was sure she would rethink her decision to go riding with him. She couldn't resist the lure, but would she get caught?  
Belle hurried to the card room to join August. There was no way she was getting back on the dance floor, unable to bear the thought of dancing with another English dandy after she'd been in Robert's arms.   
“Where've you been? I thought you only agreed to five dances,” August grumbled.  
“I needed some air on the terrace before I joined you.” Belle frowned at the small pile of coins sitting before her brother. “How much have you lost?”  
August patted his sister’s hand reassuringly where it rested on his shoulder. “Not to worry, dear. We'll be getting it all back.”

X*X*X*X*X

Robert was whistling as he stood before the full length mirror in his bedroom tying his cravat. Whistling, for Christ's sake. He pulled on a fawn colored waistcoat and began doing up the buttons, his mind wandering back to the garden and Belle. He pulled on his boots and a midnight blue jacket, pleased by his overall appearance. He frowned. Abigail was right. He really needed to cut his hair. No time for that. He was to collect Belle in two hours and he still had to get through breakfast with his mother.  
Belle.  
He was in a constant state of discomfort because of her. Never had he wanted something so badly as to possess her. All of her, not just her body. He wanted her heart, her soul, and the wait was going to be agonizing. But it would be worth every ache. She was his future happiness, she just didn't know it yet. It had taken every ounce of his control not to carry her off to his bed last night, but he hadn't wanted to frighten her. She was so full of passion and fire, and he knew she was going to be glorious in his bed.  
“What is that god-awful noise?” the dowager complained as she left the parlor for the dining room.  
Robert's whistle grew louder as he came down the staircase.  
“Robbie, do cease that incessant noise. You know I cannot abide whistling. It's positively uncouth.”  
“Good morning, Mother,” he said with a brilliant smile.  
Abigail's eyes narrowed on him. “And just what has you so happy this morning? Have you been betting on Jefferson's horse at the track again? The dear boy does know how to choose prime horseflesh.”  
“No, Mother, I haven't been to the track,” he said, “nor have I placed any wagers in White’s betting books,” he added before she thought to ask.  
Jefferson chose that moment to enter the dining room. “Sorry, I'm late, Abby,” he said, kissing her cheek.  
Abigail gasped, Robert paused in filling his plate and the footman looked away as Jefferson took his seat at the table. He began pouring cream and sugar into his coffee, ignoring the stunned silence.  
Abigail was the first to break the silence. “Dare I ask what has happened to your eye? Whom have you offended this time?”  
“What's her name?” Robert asked drolly.  
Jefferson stiffened. “I'll have you know, it wasn't a she…at least I don't think it was.”  
“And just what do you mean by that? Didn't you see who mangled your face?” Robert snickered, grinning again. “I thought you were going to continue your winning streak and then go home. Alone.”  
“Yeah, well, I did. Won quite a bit last night. Best streak I've had in a while. Seventeen hundred quid, in fact.”  
Robert raised a brow. “That is quite impressive. However, it doesn't explain the black eye,” he said pointedly.  
“Oh, that came later, on the way home.” Jefferson was hedging and Robert was quickly losing patience, his fingernails tapping on the polished oak table. “Took the shortcut through Hyde Park where we were set upon by highwaymen. Highwaymen who held us up, robbed me of my valuables and then gave me this with the butt of a pistol when I protested. I'm sure now you can understand why I didn't wish to discuss.”  
“Henderson, meat for his lordship's eye, if you please,” Abigail ordered the footman. “Jefferson, what were you doing in the park? It seems that these villains have been using our parks of late to make quite a bit. Haven't you read the newspaper this morning? Your folly last night would make the fourth robbery this week. Everyone has been warned to stay out of the parks after dark until these brigands have been apprehended.”  
Jefferson glanced down at the plate Henderson set before him containing one rather large and bloody raw steak. He met Abigail's eyes. “Must I?”  
Abigail quirked an imperious brow at him. “You must.”  
Jefferson slapped the steak to his eye, settled back into his chair and sighed wearily. “Y'know, Robbie, I must say that our thieves are improving.”  
“Really? How so?” the duke implored, eyeing his friend over the rim of his coffee cup.  
“They were the best dressed thieves I've ever come across. Dressed all in black, fine quality their clothes were.”  
“You think it might be gentry fallen on hard times and trying to improve their situation by playing highwaymen? Yet without sense enough to dress the part?”  
“Possibly. But who do we know that would need that much quid? Because right now, with the old head pounding, I can't think of anyone,” Jefferson replied.  
Robert pushed his plate aside and rose from the table. “It might be worth looking into, but not this morning.”  
Jefferson removed the steak and stared at his friend. “And just why the hell not?”  
Robert just smiled, resumed his whistling and sauntered out the dining room, leaving Jefferson and Abigail gaping behind him.  
.  
X*X*X*X*X

“You need to rid yourself of this distraction. It's getting in the way of our plans.”  
Belle looked into the mirror where the reflection of her brother leaning against the open door stared back at her. Oh, brother dear, if you only knew.  
“I don't know what you mean. I'm not distracted,” she lied smoothly.  
“You're lying.”  
“Am not,” she sing-songed.   
“It's that duke, isn't it?” August's eyes narrowed on her. Belle took a deep breath and pushed her emotions into a ball, burying them deep within her. Too bad she couldn't do that in Robert's presence. That would make things so much easier for her. But no, with him she was laid bare before him, raw with her emotions. “And now you're deliberately blocking me.”  
“I'm still furious with you. That's the truth, and why I'm not speaking to you, so I’ll ask you nicely just this once to please leave my room.””  
“I know you're mad, but it was a necessary evil to accomplish our goal.” August ducked his head, frowning. “You'll forgive me eventually. You never could stay mad at me for long, Belle.”  
Belle wasn't so sure about that. “I understand your motivation for turning us into highwaymen, Auggie, but you promised me that no one would be hurt by it.”  
August sprinted across the room and clamped his hand over her mouth. “Announcing it to the household is going to land us in prison, sister dear. Do lower your voice,” he hissed.  
With outward calm, she reached around and dug her nails into August's groin, gaining her release and a satisfying yowl from him. “What have I told you of touching me, Auggie? We're not children anymore. I'm not going to let you bully me.”  
“Fine,” he growled, hissing in pain.  
Belle grinned when his voice came out in a high pitched squeak. “From now on, you're on your own. We can find some other way home to Portland.” She tied a ribbon to the end of her long braid and smoothed the skirt of her deep purple riding habit. “Besides, Auggie, I really don't understand your desire to go home and face that mob. It doesn't matter that you're innocent. I know you didn't kill Father, but that doesn't mean anyone else believes it.”  
“But, Belle, I can't do this without you,” he whined.  
“Do you know why I agreed to this insanity?”  
August peeked at her from under his lashes. “Because I talked you into it?”  
“No, idiot. To protect you. But if you keep this up--” she warned.  
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “I promise no one is going to get hurt. But you have to be with me on this. Soon we'll have enough money to hire an investigator to go to Portland and discover the truth. Then we can go home and get our lives back.”  
A frown furrowed her brow, a nagging ache forming in her stomach. Robert wasn't in Portland, he was here in England.  
What is wrong with you? You barely know the man. Besides, you hate England. You don't want to be here, you want to go home.  
But he--  
“You're chewing your thumb. And you just lost control of your feelings. You're thinking about that duke again!” August thundered.  
Belle glanced at the clock on the dresser. Nine forty five. She patted August's cheek and smiled. “Bugger off, Auggie.” With that she swept out of the room to wait below for Robert.  
She couldn't lie to herself, she wanted him. She knew it was dangerous to spend time with him because of August's machinations. Robert wasn't stupid, and the more time she spent with him, the more likely he would discover her secret. But she knew in her heart that she wouldn't be able to resist him for very long. She craved him like her favorite chocolates, his company, his touch, his kisses. Desire unfurled in her belly and she had to grip the rail as she proceeded downstairs to the parlor. She couldn't even think of him without becoming a quivering mass of nerves.

X*X*X*X*X

Belle stopped a footman and asked that he have her horse saddled. Of course, she would much rather ride Thunder, her stallion, but it wasn't appropriate for a lady to ride such a horse, and she couldn't take the chance that someone had seen her on him last night leaving the park. No, she couldn't risk it.  
Lady Regina and her daughter Emma were already having tea when Belle entered the parlor and stopped short. They weren't alone. It seemed that every gentleman she'd danced with last night was seated in the parlor.  
“Belle, so good of you to join us, my dear,” Regina said sweetly. “Might I just have a word with you?”  
Holy hell! This doesn’t bode well. Regina only used that sugary sweet voice when she wanted something.  
“Of course, Aunt Regina.”  
Regina took Belle's hand and pulled her out into the hall. “I see you've noticed the number of gentlemen in the parlor?” She waited for Belle's nod. “Your Uncle Daniel and I think it would behoove you to try to see some of them in, shall we say, a pleasing light.”  
Belle smiled coyly. “Why, by all means. . . no.”  
The corners of her aunt's mouth turned down. “Belle, we just feel that while you are here you should try to find a husband. There are a great many prospects this season. A rich, titled lord or even a wealthy untitled gentleman could make you an excellent offer. You could be happy and remain here in England with your family and get this silly nonsense about returning to Portland out of your head.”  
“In other words, Aunt Regina, you don't want me in the way of Emma being able to make the coup of the season,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “Not to worry. I have no plans to shackle myself to one of those nabobs. I will return to Portland and Emma can have her pick. She need not feel threatened by me.” And with that she returned to the parlor to finally have her tea. Robert would be here soon and she didn't want him to have to wait on her.  
That would've been easier to accomplish if the moment she entered the parlor the gentlemen didn't descend upon her in a frenzy. All the while, her cousin stared daggers at her from her perch on the damask sofa. Twit! Maybe Emma wouldn't think so badly of her if she knew how repulsive she found these fops. If she was going to choose someone, she would choose Robert Gold.  
Bloody hell, where did that thought come from? Aunt Regina would have fits!  
Belle laughed out loud at that mental picture. Lord Newberry saw that as a perfect opportunity to compliment her on her laugh. Ick! Newberry of the bad breath. Her smile faded.   
Lord Wascom moved to her right and tried to take her hand, but she sidestepped a safe distance away from those huge feet. She was on her second cup of tea and the end of the control she had on her temper when she felt him. Just a low buzzing at the edge of her consciousness, but he was there.  
Dear lord, he was a beautiful man. Not in the classic sense, no. It's just the way he's put together.  
Breathe, stupid!  
Silence greeted his introduction into the parlor. For a moment she thought Emma was going to swoon with excitement. Twit! Robert bowed to her aunt and cousin and declined the offer of refreshment, that floof of hair falling over his brow. The blood was beginning to hum in her veins, his dark eyes finally meeting and boring into hers.  
Robert moved to stand before her, the gentlemen moving aside to let him forward to take her hand in his. “Miss Whitmore,” he said, dropping a kiss on her knuckles.  
Belle gasped as a slow smile lifted one corner of his mouth.  
Ack! How can the man smile with only half his mouth and turn my mind to mush?   
“Your G-Grace,” she stammered and dropped into a curtsy.  
“Are you ready?” he asked, maintaining his grip on her hand. Belle fought for control. If she couldn't get control of her wayward feelings, she was going to swoon before they even left the parlor, and that just wouldn’t do. She would not embarrass herself in front of this man. The shame would be unbearable.  
“Yes, Your Grace,” she said, taking another calming breath.  
Turning to the door, however, she nearly ran into August as he rushed in. His eyes immediately narrowed on the duke. “Belle, so glad I caught you. A word, please?” When she hesitated, he said, “It's rather important.”  
Robert raised a dark brow, but relinquished his hold on her hand. “I won't be but a moment, Your Grace,” Belle said through clenched teeth. She could have happily murdered her brother at that moment. Stepping into the hall, she rounded on August, frying him with her eyes.  
“That's the duke?” August whispered.  
“Yes.”  
“And just where are you off to? With him?”  
“Hyde Park.”  
“I don't think that's a good idea. Your gift is too unpredictable when you're with him. You don't need the distraction,” August hissed.  
“Auggie, I love you,” Belle said with a sweet smile that didn't come close to the heat in her eyes. “But I do need to warn you. I'm stuck in this god-awful country due to circumstances not of my own making. For the first time in three months I have found something, someone that makes me feel. I'm tired, Auggie, tired of feeling dead inside. You will not mess this up for me. Are we clear?”  
He gulped audibly. “Crystal.”  
“Enjoy your afternoon, brother. Try to stay out of trouble,” she warned and left him in the hall to join Robert by the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Poor Belle, she’s got her hands full with her burgeoning feelings for Robert and having to deal with her idiot brother. Don’t worry, she can handle it. It’s not like they’re going to be able to fight off True Love for very long regardless. That’s some powerful juju. The question is will she let her blind loyalty to her brother get in the way of her feelings for her duke? Don’t worry, my lovelies, I promise to have another chapter for you next Saturday. Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favs. You just don’t know what it all means to me…xoxoxo


	3. Chapter 3

       Robert tucked Belle's hand in the crook of his arm and led her down the front steps to where their horses were waiting.  Arching a brow, he peered down at her with surprise.  “That's not a side saddle,” he stated simply.

       “Can't put anything past you, Your Grace,” Belle replied drolly and pulled away from him, mounting her mare in one fluid motion, unaided.  She laughed when his brows shot into his hairline.  “Split skirt, special made by my seamstress back home.  Never could abide a side saddle.  Always felt as though I was going to slip off.”

       Looking up at her, sitting there so confident, just made him want her all the more.  “Very well, Miss Whitmore,” he replied with his crooked grin.  “Let the games begin.”

       Belle cast him a surreptitious glance from beneath her lashes as he led her on the familiar route to the park, studying his profile.  “And is that all you see me as, Your Grace?  A game to be won?” she asked, her lips drawn into a tight line of displeasure.

       “Oh no, dearie,” he answered without the slightest bit of hesitation.  “I’m quite serious in my pursuit of you.”  His sable eyes glowed with warmth as he took her in, his thin lips curving into a half moon grin that sent her stomach fluttering again.

       She quelled the nerves that always besieged her in his presence and leveled him with a pointed look.  “You’ll find I’m not such an easy conquest.”

       “Oh I’ve no doubt of that, my Belle, but your stubbornness will not deter me.  I’m not a nice man, but I always get what I want,” he said, a tone of underlying menace entering his voice, causing her to shiver in the bright morning sun.

       “Hm,” she hummed thoughtfully.  “It doesn’t seem to have put off the marriage minded mamas this season.”

       Disgust twisted his features for a moment.  “They see wealth, title and power, my dear, despite my rather sordid reputation.”

       “Are you really so dark, Your Grace?” she asked, unable to stop herself from voicing the question, a tingle of fear skittering along her spine as she awaited his answer.  He didn’t disappoint.

       “Darker, dearie…much darker,” he murmured, reaching for her gloved hand and dropping a lingering kiss to the exposed pulse point on her wrist.

       Hyde Park was teeming with activity when they arrived.  Robert normally rode earlier in the morning before the gentry roused themselves so he could have a brisk ride.  This morning the lanes were jammed with open carriages and horseflesh, their riders stopping to say hello to acquaintances.  He needed to find him and Belle a place where they could have relative privacy to talk, yet still be in plain sight. 

       _At least for a while._

       “I don’t see it,” Belle said as she dismounted to walk beside the mare, linking her arm through his as he stepped to her side.  It didn’t mean that she couldn’t _feel_ the darkness that surrounded him, but there was so much more to him and she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to peel back his layers to find the man hidden beneath.  “I think you project that mask to the world to keep someone from seeing who you really are.”

       His brows drew together in a concerned frown as he looked away from her, unable to meet her penetrating gaze.  It would be so easy to love her, if he’d just let himself, but did he want her to know some of the things he’d done in his past to achieve the wealth and power attached to his title.  Some inner instinct told him he could and he felt a piece of the wall that surrounded his heart, the wall that kept everyone at a distance, crumble to ash.

       “You might not like who I really am, dearie.”

       “Maybe I already do,” she whispered, her eyes bright with understanding as she met his own.  “Sometimes you do what needs to be done in order to protect yourself, to survive.  Regardless, it’s in the past, what you may or may not have done.  Who am I to cast judgments?”

       They turned down a cobble path that led around a small lake, their horses trailing behind.  He nodded to several of his peers, distracted by her frank assessment of his character.  “My father died when I was thirteen.  He left me the title and a mountain of debt.”

       “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Belle said, letting her hand slide down his arm until she could twine her fingers with his and give it a reassuring squeeze.

       Robert waved the hand holding the reins in an offhand manner as if it were of no consequence.  “Instead of going on my grand tour of the continent after I finished Eton, I set to rebuilding what we’d once had.  I was ruthless in my pursuits.  Someone always wants something, Belle, no matter the cost.  I used other’s vulnerabilities for my own personal gain until I not only rebuilt what we’d once had, but exceeded it tenfold.”

       “Robert, ambition and the drive to succeed aren’t a sin.”

       He laughed, a harsh bark of mirthless sound, ignoring her blind optimism as well as the rush of pleasure he felt at hearing his name fall from her rosebud mouth.  “No, but my methods could have been better.” He stopped, his hand slowly falling away from her as he raised it to caress her smooth cheek, delighting in the rosy blush that settled in her face.  “I didn’t bring you out here to discuss my past, Belle.”

       “Why did you bring me out here, then?” she asked coyly, tilting her head to the side as she bit lightly at her lower lip.

       It was all he could do to refrain from kissing her right there on the crowded path, be damned the consequences.  “I want to know you, Belle,” he whispered, stepping a bit closer to her without even realizing.

       Belle cleared her throat, trying to regain her good sense that his closeness seemed to rob her of.  She hefted herself back into the saddle and waited until he’d done the same.  “I’m sure you’ve already heard the gossip surrounding me and my brother.  There’s little more to tell.”

       “No secrets I should be aware of?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.  If she wasn’t ready to confide in him, he wouldn’t push.  “Or should we save your tale for another time?”

       She merely smiled beguilingly over at him and set her mare off into a trot, refusing to answer and allowing the mystery surrounding her to grow.  It mattered little in the long run, he thought, urging his horse to keep up with hers.  She could tell him everything _after_ he’d secured her hand.

 

X*X*X*X*X

      

       Robert led her to a path that twisted east through the park where he knew they should be able to have a good run.  “You up for more than a trot?”

       Belle's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.  “What did you have in mind? A race, perchance?” she asked, excitement lighting her cerulean eyes.

       Robert chuckled, a deep throaty sound that washed over her like a caress. He was having a hard time holding the stallion back on the crowded lanes, and race was just what he needed.  “And the wager?”

       “Hmm.” Belle tapped her finger to her chin, a slow smile lifting her lips. “What do you want if you win?”

       _You!_ “If I win, you will dance with no one but me at the next three balls.  Beginning with the Hastings ball this evening,” he challenged.  “Do we have a deal?”

       The breath caught in Belle's throat.  His voice was low and seductive, his eyes darker than dark with desire.  She would have agreed to anything he wanted. “Agreed.”

       He moved his horse closer to hers and took her hand, making slow circles on her palm with his thumb, his heat touching her even through her leather glove “And your terms? What is it _you_ want?”

       Belle's control slipped a fraction and she closed her eyes, stifling a moan. _You!_ But, of course, she couldn't voice that thought.  What could she ask for?

       “Answers.”

       Robert frowned, staring at her with bemusement. “Answers?”

       “If I win, you have to give me a truthful, unabridged answer to any question I ask,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.  “Those are my terms.  Do you accept?”

       Robert's eyes narrowed with the challenge. “You're on.”  He quickly surveyed the surrounding area.  “There,” he said, pointing across the distance.  “To the gazebo and back.”  He watched her tighten her hands on the reins and tensed in anticipation.  “Ready?”

       “Go!” she yelled and dug her heels into the mare's flank.

       Robert was close behind her, the horse’s hooves pounding the ground, thundering towards the turning point.  Belle was a mere nose ahead of him, her face screwed up in concentration, her chest heaving with excitement.  Halfway, the scarf she had tied around her neck came loose and fluttered behind her to the ground, distracting her.  Robert pulled ahead of her in time to round the gazebo.  He was gaining ground and looked to see how far she had fallen behind.  What he saw nearly made his heart stop.  Belle had pulled her left foot from the stirrup, wrapped her leg around the saddle horn and swung her body toward the ground.  He slowed his horse, preparing to turn to rush to her aid.  She was hanging upside down and could fall and injure herself at any moment.  Then she was upright again, the scarf clutched tightly in her fist.  Belle flashed him a brilliant smile as she sped past him, pulled her mare to a stop at the finish and hopped down.

       Robert was seething with rage by the time he pulled to a stop before her, his eyes flashing fire.  His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he stared down into her startled face.

       “What is wrong with you, you foolish girl?  You could have fallen and broken your neck, or even been trampled by its hooves,” he raged. Belle could feel every ounce of it, so attuned to him as she was.  He took hold of her shoulders, fighting the urge to shake her senseless.  “Don't you ever do that again.”

       Belle braced her hands on his chest and closed her eyes.  She didn't know if it would work.  She hadn't tried in too many years to count, but she figured it couldn't hurt.  She gathered up her own calm and projected it outward toward Robert, willing it with everything she had.  She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, growing weak from the heat emanating from his eyes.

       _It worked.  Uh-oh!_

       Robert's hands moved from grasping her shoulders in an iron grip, to her back, pressing her closer.

_Maybe I should've let the other passion run its course.  Now he's traded it in for the real thing._

       He rested his brow against Belle's and inhaled deeply, drawing a calming breath into his starving lungs.  He was thoroughly confused as to how he'd gone from primal rage to calm to full blown lust in just a matter of seconds.

       “I'm s-sorry.  I didn't mean to frighten you, Robert,” she whispered near his ear, her warm breath sending a shiver through him, a shiver that went right to her core as she rested her cheek against his and leaned into his embrace.

       And that was enough.  His lips claimed hers in a kiss that could in no way compare to their kiss last night in the garden.  It wasn't gentle, but hot, filled with passion and need.  Belle was burning with it, its fire consuming her.  His lips, his tongue, dueling with hers. She wanted more.  She delved her hands into his gloriously soft hair and moaned softly into his mouth, holding him to her, letting him know without words that she wanted him too.  And then the world came crashing down on them.

       “Good Lord, Robbie!  Are you trying to ruin the poor girl?” A bored voice broke in from somewhere over Robert's shoulder.

       Robert stiffened and released Belle to turn and face his friend. “Jefferson, your timing is wretched, as usual.”

       Belle peeked over Robert's shoulder and stifled a gasp, recognizing Jefferson as August's robbery victim of the previous evening.  She winced, noticing his very swollen, _very_ black eye.  Damn Auggie!  Robert pulled her around to his side, placing her hand in the crook of his arm and covering it with his warm hand.

       “Belle, this is Jefferson Madden, Earl Rochefort and also my dearest friend in the world.  There's nothing to fear from him,” Robert assured her, not understanding the reason for her alarm.

       Belle squelched her panic and smiled.  “We met briefly last night when he was doing your dirty work, Your Grace.”

       “Yes, well, desperate times and measures, that,” the duke quipped, pleased when a smile bloomed on her lips.

       “I'm very pleased to meet you, milord,” Belle said, dropping into a curtsy.

       “Good heavens, please don't ever do that again.  I'll begin to expect such manners from everyone and that just won't do at all,” Jefferson teased her with a wink.  “Well, come along then.  This little area you've found yourself in just isn't the best place, if you know what I mean.”  He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing her to laugh.

       Annoyance.  Belle peered up into Robert's face, unable to gauge his mood without actually feeling it, but she was certain it was coming from him.  She couldn't get a read on Jefferson at all. _How odd.  I should be able to feel his mood as well._  But all she was able to feel was the man beside her who she was coming to care for quite deeply.

Robert scowled up at Jefferson as Belle swung up into her saddle.  “What are you even doing out here, Jeff?  I thought you'd want to avoid the park after your adventure last night.”

       “Don't eat me, Robbie.  When you didn't show up at the club, it wasn't hard to guess where you were. . .or who you were with.”

       Robert snorted and mounted his own horse. “I would've turned up eventually.”

       “Yes, well, let's escort our lovely Miss Whitmore home.  Then we need to talk.”

 

X*X*X*X*X     

      

       Robert helped Belle dismount in front of the Morrison's townhouse, his hands lingering longer than was deemed appropriate on her slim waist, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket to steady herself.

       “Robbie, really!” Jefferson warned.

       _Damn and blast!_

       Belle looked up at Jefferson and stuck her tongue out at him before turning to place her hand on Robert's arm.  Jefferson was taken aback at such a crass gesture, but Robert just graced her with a crooked grin and led her up the steps to the front door, happy that she was so at ease with them she felt she could be carefree and drop the strictures of society.

       He didn't want to let her go.  He would be doomed to spend another boring day at his club, playing cards and trying to pass the time until he could see her tonight.  “You will be at the Hastings Ball this evening?”

       “Yes, Your Grace,” she said in a low whisper, just as affected as he at their close proximity. 

       Robert leaned closer, his warm breath brushing her ear.  “I don't want to hear one more 'Your Grace' pass your lips.  You can't kiss me like that and continue to stand on ceremony, Belle.”

       It was taking every ounce of his willpower not to kiss her right there on the front steps for all of London to see.  Belle raised her head just a fraction so she could whisper in his own ear.  “Remember the race?  Even though you didn't win, I won't dance with anyone but you. . . Robbie,” she said and dropped a quick kiss on his neck before retreating inside

       It was a full minute before he realized that he was still standing on the top step of the Morrison's townhouse just staring at the door, Jefferson still sitting atop his horse, waiting for him.

       _That woman is going to be the death of me.  Can you die from sexual frustration? It's not like I can ask Jefferson.  I'd never live that one down._

 _“_ Come on, Rob!” Jefferson called, impatient as ever.

       Robert mounted his horse, casting Jefferson an irritated frown.  “Alright!  What is so bloody important that it can't wait?” he asked, shifting in his saddle, trying for a more comfortable position, but nothing worked.  He briefly thought about a quick dip in the Thames, but discarded the idea.  Abigail would have fits!

       “Just thought I would warn you,” Jefferson said evasively.

       Robert's head whipped around in alarm, “What?”

       “Abby's planning a house party.”

       “God, no!”

       “At Sheffield.”

       “No.”

       “In two weeks time.”

       Robert groaned.

       “And she's planning to invite twenty lovely ladies of her choosing of marriageable age for you to 'look over'.”

       Robert stared straight ahead at the crowded street, his thoughts not on the traffic, but a dozen ways to murder his well-meaning mother. “Who is she inviting? Did you see the guest list?” he asked, his mind shifting into high gear as he tried to think of a way to derail his mother’s plans.

       Jefferson was silent for a moment.  The muscle in Robert's jaw was beginning to twitch and knew he was in a murderous rage.  “No, she snatched the list away from me and ordered me to the club.  That's why I was trying to find you.” He tugged on his cravat, the silk feeling tight about his throat in his discomfort.

       Robert glanced at him sharply.  That was a clear sign that there was more Jefferson wasn't telling him. “What else?”

       Jefferson sighed, resigned.  “All I _can_ tell you is who she's not inviting.”

       A slow smile pulled at Robert's mouth. “Belle,” he breathed.  “No, Jeff, my dear mother is in for a rude awakening.  I'm going to be making my own guest list and I promise you Miss Belle Whitmore _will_ be on it.”  

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle was trying to tip toe past the parlor when her aunt's voice stopped her, “Belle, would you please join me for a cup of tea, dear?”

       _Crap! Caught being sneaky._

       Belle schooled her features into a sweet smile and joined Regina on the sofa. “Yes, Aunt, that would be lovely,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap and trying not to fidget.  Regina obviously wanted something.

       “Belle,” she began, her smile sticky sweet and nowhere near matching the heat of her gaze. “Why didn't you tell me the Duke of Sheffield had shown a marked interest in you?”

       _Uh-oh!_   “I didn't think of it, really.  I just met him a few nights ago at your ball,” she said warily.

       “You do understand nothing can come of this.”

       Belle's eyes narrowed.  “Come of what, exactly?”

       “A relationship with the duke, of course,” Regina said with a dry chuckle, and then feigning a look of sympathy.

       “Relationship?  I don't have a relationship with Ro-- His Grace,” Belle said firmly, catching herself before she said his name, but the damage had been done.

       “Robert?  He asked you to call him Robert?” Regina's voice was rising sharply.  Never a good sign, that.

       “Actually, no,” Belle said with a grin at her aunt's upset.  “He asked me to call him Robbie.”

       “What?” she shrieked.  “I've only heard two people ever call him 'Robbie'.  And that is his mother and Jefferson Madden--”

       “His closest friend,” Belle finished for her.  “Well, Aunt, His Grace apparently considers me his friend too.” She decided a change of subject was in order.  “What time are we leaving for the Hastings ball this evening?”

       She could actually see Regina's mind whirling.  “Oh, um, seven, I believe.”

       Belle set her cup down on the tray and rose from her seat.  “Might want to get a nap, Aunt.  You look tired.”  And with that she swept out of the room, leaving her aunt alone to throw a tantrum.

       She knew Regina was just jealous.  Regina no doubt wanted Emma to set her cap for Sheffield.  Belle shuddered.  All that passion and fire wasted on innocent, little Emma.  _Over my dead body!_ Belle stopped dead at the top of the stairs.  _What the hell am I doing?_

_I don't want Robert Gold!_

_I'm going home to Portland and I'll never see him again._

_If that's what you really want, why does it hurt so badly to think of leaving him?_

_It doesn't matter._

_Why?_

_I can't marry a duke.  It would ruin him if I married him and then he found out I was different._

_He wouldn't care._

_His family would._

_He's the only one who needs to know.  Don't you remember what your mother told you?  It didn't matter to your father._

_Father was special._

_So is your Robbie._

Belle shook her head to clear it.  When had she started thinking of Robert Gold as hers?  That would come to no good.  Matters didn't improve when she entered her room and found August lying across her bed, waiting for her.

       _Damn!_

“Enjoy yourself, my dear?” August sneered.

       _Double damn!_

“What do you want, Auggie?  I was hoping to rest for a while before the ball tonight,” Belle said wearily.  She just hadn't calmed enough from being with Robert to deal with her brother.

       “We're not going to the Hastings ball tonight.  We're going to be busy.”

       Alarm bells rang loudly in her ears.  “Oh, no, Auggie.  I will not miss the ball tonight.  I don't care what you've planned, but you can do it alone.”

       “But--” he whined, a petulant pout upon his lips.

       Belle put her hands on his shoulders and gave a little shake.  “I'm sorry.  Not tonight.  I made a promise that I would be there and I'm not breaking it to play highwayman with you.”

       August's eyes narrowed furiously on her.  “Do I need to stress to you the importance of our mission once again?  Nothing takes precedence over that.  Am I making myself clear?”

       Belle lowered her lashes, refusing to let him influence her.  “No, Auggie, you do not.  I'm just taking one night off.  Just one, then it's back to business.”

       She watched him stalk out, slamming the door behind him.  He was going to land them both in prison, because of his determination to go home.  Fat lot of good money would be to them if they were in prison, but she was at a loss as to how to stop him.  It wasn’t all bad.  She merely had to go with him to protect him, to watch over him.  At least he had the good sense to know she wouldn’t participate in his folly…not that it would matter were they caught.  She’d hang right alongside him as his accomplice.

      

X*X*X*X*X

At precisely four o'clock, as Belle was preparing for her bath, her maid handed her a folded slip of paper sealed with wax.  She peered closely at the imprint in the wax.  Robert's ducal crest.  Her hands shook as she broke the seal.

_Thinking of you, luv. Especially your lips, swollen and parted from my kiss._

       _Robbie_

       She swore, her teeth clamping down on her lower lip to stifle a moan.

       “I'm sorry, Miss?”

       Belle ignored her maid and rushed to her dresser for paper to send his note back.  “Is the footman that delivered this still here?”

       “Yes, Miss.”

       “Run downstairs and don't let him leave!” she demanded, hurriedly scrawling her reply.

 

      

       _Scandalous!  What if your note had been intercepted?  I'm thinking of you too, Robbie._

_Belle_

       “Nora!” Belle shouted through the open door.  “Did you catch him?

       “Yes, Miss,” the maid replied, eyeing the girl as if she’d taken leave of her senses.

       “Send this back with him please,” she told the maid, sealing the note and handing it to her.  She was settled into a bubble bath when Nora handed her another note with the ducal seal upon it.

 

 

       _Will you let me kiss you again tonight in the garden?_

_Robbie_

If he didn't stop this, her bathwater was going to start boiling.  She giggled aloud.  _Boiled vixen.  I can see it now.  No, Lady Morrison, I can't image how your niece boiled to death in her bath._   She giggled again at the thought, enjoying a moment of carefree whimsy. Rinsing the bubbles from herself, she rose from the water to wrap a towel around herself.  Belle didn't even dry off completely before jotting off another note.

 

       _No._

_Belle_

_Why?_

_Robbie_

_Because I can’t allow you to take liberties no matter how delightful they may be, rogue._

_Belle_

_I want you too, luv.  More than you know._

_Robbie_

_P.S.  What color is your gown?_

Her gown?  Where had that come from, she wondered.

 

_Blue._

_Belle_

_This is the last until I see you this evening.  I'm worried about my footman.  He looks exhausted._

_Seven o'clock, luv. One hour forty five minutes.  Then you belong to me._

_Robbie_

_Then you belong to me._   Belle reread that last line three times to make sure she hadn't read it wrong.  Her heart skipped a beat. 

       _Oh! I am in so much trouble._

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Abigail Gold gnashed her teeth together and pulled a shawl over her shoulders.  She was sitting in the parlor planning her house party, when Robert came down the stairs.  Whistling again!  Infernal noise!  “Robert Edward James!”

       The whistling stopped, as Robert strolled into the parlor and kissed Abigail's cheek.  “Sorry, Mother.”

       “Where are you off to this evening?” she asked, tsking loudly as her eyes settled on his hair.

       “Hastings.”

       Abigail looked up from her list making and took in his appearance, eyes so like her son's narrowed suspiciously.  “You're wearing a blue waistcoat?  Since when do you deviate from your precious black evening wear?”

       Robert shrugged.  “Jeff does it all the time and you never call him on the carpet for it.”

       “Jefferson has a wonderful sense of style.  I've never had cause to call him on the carpet for the way he turns himself out,” she said, turning back to her list making.

       Robert turned on his heel to leave the parlor, his mother's parting words ringing in his ears.  “You still need to cut your hair!”  He shrugged into his coat and made his way to Jefferson's waiting carriage, pushing her complaints to the back of his mind. 

       “Coward,” he said, casting a scowl Jefferson's way as he climbed into the carriage and settled on the seat opposite the earl.

       “Who, me?” Jefferson asked innocently, handing Robert a flask filled with his favorite scotch.

       “Yes, you,” he said, drinking nearly half the flask before handing it back.  “Why didn't you come inside?”

       “Robbie, you know I never could keep things from Abby.  She would've taken one look at me and known I'd told you of the house party,” he said in his defense.

       “Yes, well, if my plan works, my dear mother won't know a thing until the guests start arriving.”  Robert relaxed back into the deep cushions and smiled.  His mother could be devious and manipulative, but she'd have to get up a lot earlier to pull one over on him.  Her well laid plans were about to be shot all to hell.  He'd compiled a list this afternoon at the club…twenty eligible bachelors for every lovely miss save one.  Belle was his.  He knew Abigail couldn't resist inviting Lady Emma Morrison along with Lady Regina as her chaperone.  He was just going to make sure that Belle was invited as well.  With so many bachelors vying for the debutante's attentions, he would have an unobstructed path to her.  Robert sighed with satisfaction, confident he'd be engaged before the month was out.

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle was a bundle of nerves when the carriage finally pulled up in front of the Hastings townhouse.  _Open the bloody door!  What was wrong with these footmen?  Finally!_   She smashed August's foot in her haste to get out of the carriage.  _Good!  He doesn't need to dance tonight anyway.  Idiot!_

She was gnashing her teeth by the time he finally got out of the carriage and offered his arm to escort her inside.  “August, I hope you have a wonderful time in the card room this evening,” she said with a sweet smile that didn't match the fire in her eyes.

       “Liar,” he drawled lazily, taking his time as he sensed her frenzied desire for haste.

       Her smile got wider as the heat in her gaze nearly scorched him alive.

       “Um hmm,” August mumbled.  “Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

       Belle merely clicked the nails of her right hand together.  August grimaced and left her with Regina at the door, heading straightaway to the card room.  He wasn't giving her another chance to use those claws on him again today.  She handed her cloak to a footman and took a dance card from another before she stepped into the massive ballroom, her eyes searching the three dozen or so guests for Robert.  It was still early after all.  The musicians hadn't even begun to set up, yet.

       Belle's disappointment was like a physical weight crushing the air from her lungs.  _Maybe he's just not close enough to feel his emotions._   She closed her eyes and sent out feelers in all directions. Nothing.  She took the small pocket watch that had belonged to her mother, from the reticule hanging from her wrist.  Five past seven.  _He's late._   She joined her aunt and uncle near a sitting area the Hastings servants had arranged, her back to the door.

       Belle knew the moment he arrived.  She could feel his eyes on her back, just as if he were running his hands along the bare skin her gown revealed but she resisted the urge she had to turn and run to him.  How would that look?  She ground her teeth together, praying for patience – which was clearly not a virtue of hers at that moment -- waiting for him to come to her.  The nearer he drew to her, the more prominent his emotions became, passion, desire, a little annoyance, and a need so painful she trembled with it.

       Robert bowed smartly to her little party. “Lord and Lady Morrison, Lady Emma,” he acknowledged politely before taking Belle's hand in his, dropping a kiss to her gloved hand.  Gloves.  So that's what he was annoyed about, she thought, smiling sweetly at him.

       “Your Grace,” she said, curtsying as she peered at him from beneath her lashes.

       Robert's eyes showed his annoyance, but he kept silent about it in front of her family.  “Miss Whitmore, would you care to take a turn around the room with me?” he asked, his tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

       “I would be delighted, Your Grace,” she replied, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm.  The heat in his eyes clearly told her she would pay for each and every one of those 'Your Grace's', and she couldn't wait.  Belle was just thrilled to be with him and away from her family.  She would much rather spend the remainder of her visit in England with him if she could get away with such a thing.

       “I'm sorry, Robbie.  I just don't feel comfortable calling you that in front of my family.  Regina was less than thrilled about our outing today.  She wants Emma to make the match of the season, not her poor American niece embroiled in a scandal.”

       Robert frowned. “Just what did she think would happen when she turned you out in grand style for a London season?” he asked, wanting to wring Regina's neck.  “Emma's not going to choose this season.  At least not if she's anything like her mother.”

       “What do you mean by that?” Belle asked, tilting her head to the side as she studied his profile.  The gesture drew his gaze to the column of her ivory neck and he had to clear his throat before he was able to speak above a whisper.

       “Your dear lady aunt took her time.  I believe she chose Morrison in her third season.  However, I think it had something to do with her mother being opposed to the match rather than Regina’s resistance to his courtship.”

       Belle choked back a laugh.  “I had no idea.  Hopefully, Emma will choose sooner than that.  She may be beautiful, but her personality leaves much to be desired.  She’s so intent on pleasing her parents, especially Regina, it stifles the sweet girl I know lies deep within her.  I wish there was some way I could help her.”

       Robert steered her next to the dessert table and Belle froze, her lips parted on a sigh of pleasure. “Belle?  What's wrong, dearie?”

       His voice washed over her like a caress.  “God's knobby knees!” she cursed softly, “Get me away from the chocolates. Especially the éclairs.”

       Robert chuckled at her.  “Why? Are you allergic to chocolate?”

       Belle tugged on his arm.  “Please, Robbie.  You don't need to see me eat chocolate.”

       Robert's eyes softened, his crooked grin revealing a dimple.  “You're serious.”

       “Yes,” she said quietly, realizing she’d revealed a weakness to this man she knew so little about.

       “What does it do to you?” he asked, clearly curious.

       “I've just been told that I shouldn't eat it in public,” she admitted with a wry grin. “It's just . . . I love it so much I have a hard time resisting.”

       Robert was intrigued.  He was going to make sure his chef made a load of chocolate covered éclairs next weekend just for her.  “What if we were alone?” he asked, his voice dipping low into a sultry purr that made gooseflesh erupt along her arms.  “You could eat chocolate with me, couldn't you?”

       _Seduction, thou name art Robert Gold._

       “Possibly. . . for you,” she whispered, her eyes resting on his mouth.

       “God, woman, you cannot look at me like that in the middle of a crowded ballroom,” he admonished gently.

       “You started it,” she retorted with an impish grin.

       Robert quirked a brow at her and slipped two chocolates into his jacket pocket for later, turning her towards the dance floor.  “Dance with me?”

       “Why?”

       “Because you promised me a dance?”

       “Try again,” she said, her breath catching in her throat as she looked up into those soul sucking eyes of his, drowning in the desire reflected there.

       Robert looked away from her, fighting for composure.  It really wouldn't go over well for him to kiss her in the presence of the entire _ton_ …especially the way she kissed him back. 

       “Remember, you have to answer all my questions.  The wager?” she reminded him.

       “Right.”

       “Well, tell me why you want to dance with me,” she fairly purred, her voice washing over him and he groaned. “What's wrong?” she asked coyly, knowing full well he was suffering just as she was.

       “Because I _need_ to hold you in my arms and you won't let me take you out on the terrace,” he admitted grudgingly.

       “Alright, Robbie,” she agreed, his hand enveloping hers as he drew her into his arms on the floor to the tune of a waltz.  “Just so you know, this isn't helping.”

       “It's making it worse,” he groaned, his eyes boring into hers and she could feel it all.  His passion, his need, his _love._   Belle missed a step.  If he hadn’t caught her she would've fallen in a heap of silvery silk in the middle of eight other couples.

       _Love?  What?  He wasn't supposed to fall in love with her!  Maybe I'm mistaken.  God please let me be wrong.  Perhaps it’s lust and I’m just mistaking it for love._

       “Are you alright?” he asked, steadying her, concern etched on his handsome face.

       “New shoes.  They're making me a bit clumsy this evening,” she lied smoothly.  She wound her emotions into a tight ball and tucked them deep within her.  She had to stop this.  She couldn't continue to revel in his feelings, no matter how much she enjoyed it.  She couldn't let him love her, and the very thought nearly crushed her.

       Robert pulled her closer, holding her more firmly to his chest.  He was sure the change in her had nothing to do with her shoes.  He'd somehow frightened her with his desire and would no doubt have to fight to get her to open up to him again.  He twirled her past the spot Regina was holding court with Emma and her suitors.  Regina was shooting daggers at Belle with her eyes. He could tell there was going to be trouble on that front, he was certain, but he would weather it all.  Belle was his and he wasn't going to give her up without a fight.

       Just as he did last evening, he danced Belle toward the edge of the dance floor closest to the french doors leading to the terrace surrounding the Hastings townhouse.  Fresh, cool night air washed over Belle, a welcome relief from the warmth of the ballroom. She stepped away from Robert and leaned against the balustrade, trying to distance herself from him.

       Belle wasn't prepared when he stepped up behind her and slid his warm hands around her waist, pulling her back against him, his lips finding the curve of her neck.  Every bit of control she had mustered crumbled to ash at the soft touch of his mouth and she gasped with pleasure.

       “Marry me,” he said against her ear, his breath sending gooseflesh spreading along her arms and an intense heat pooling in her belly.

       _Shit!  Shit, shit, shit!  This wasn't happening!_

       “No,” she whispered, all she could manage around the aching knot in her chest.

       Robert smiled and trailed his lips from her ear to her bare shoulder, feeling every shiver that passed through her.  “Why?  I know you care for me.  I can give you anything, my darling, anything you desire.  Just say you’ll be mine.”

       Belle sighed regretfully, “I--I can't marry anyone.  It's not something I can easily explain.”  Why did she admit that to him?  She couldn't think, too adrift in a sea of emotion for coherent thought.  “I have to go home and sort out August's scandal.  He's innocent and I have to prove it. Until I do, I can't--” her voice trailed off as Robert's arms tightened around her, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts.

       Robert set her away from him and took her hand, drawing her down to sit on a nearby bench.  “Tell me what happened. Tell me why you and August had to leave Portland.”

       “It had a lot to do with an angry mob screaming for his blood,” she said with a wry grin.

       Robert cupped her chin, forcing her eyes to his. “No, what happened before.  Tell me everything.  Trust me, Belle.  Let me help you.”

       Belle looked down at his hand clasping hers, fighting back tears.  She did trust him, but would he believe her?  “My father, Maurice was a brilliant man.  He made his fortune through very lucrative investments.  It seemed that everything he touched turned to gold.  He always claimed that before he chose what he wanted to invest in, he would ask mother her opinion, said she was the one responsible for our good fortune.”

       “He must have loved her very much to give up his life here in London for her.  Abigail told me he was in line for the earldom and a vast fortune to go with it before he met your mother.  Is it true she was a gypsy?” he asked gently.

       “Yes.  Mama's caravan was traveling through Cornwall and decided to camp on Papa's estate there.  He and his friends couldn't resist visiting the camp, looking for any excuse to relieve the boredom.  My mother said she knew the moment she saw him that she would love him forever,” Belle said in a soft whisper.  “I've never seen two people love so fiercely.”

       Robert stroked the sensitive skin of her wrist with his thumb, suddenly more than willing to show her she was wrong, that should she give him the chance he could love her just as fiercely.  “How did they die?”

       The tears Belle had been holding back, escaped her eyes and rolled down her face to drip onto her hand.  “Carriage accident,” she said, accepting the snowy white handkerchief Robert offered.  “They were coming home from a party hosted by their dearest friends and the axle broke, throwing them into a gulley.  They died on impact.”

       “How is it that August was blamed?” he asked, wrapping a comforting arm about her waist and pressing his lips to her temple.

       “August had the most to gain, which I’m sure is why he was accused.  My father left his entire fortune and estate to my brother.”

       Robert was taken aback. “He left you nothing?”

       Belle emitted an unladylike snort. “August is my twin.  Father knew Auggie would always take care of me, and he has, for the most part.  I don't always agree with his methods, but I know him.  He would never do anything to hurt our parents.  He was framed,” she said, the words falling from her lips bitterly as if it were second nature to defend her brother.  “If it wasn't an accident, then someone else tampered with that carriage and made sure August was blamed.”

       Robert rested his brow to hers and sighed.  “Seems quite a coil.”

       “Yes, one I'm not sure how I'm going to get him out of this time.”

       Robert inhaled deeply, lavender.  She smelled of lavender in full bloom, and his need for her grew.  But he had to get her out of this mess before she would have him, of that he was certain.  “Let me help you.”

       Belle pulled away from him and rose from the bench.  “No, Robbie.  This is something I have to do.  Alone.”

       Robert rose as well, taking her hand in his once again, groaning when he heard a familiar voice round the corner.  “Should've known I'd find you out here enjoying the fresh air. . .with the lovely Miss Whitmore,” Jefferson drawled, a lovely young debutante on each arm.

       Robert stifled a laugh.  “I see you haven't been hiding behind the ferns this evening.”

       “Yes, well, my lovelies here couldn't resist offering their sympathy,” he said, glancing fondly at the ladies clinging to his arms.  The color was fading from his swollen eye, but only a little.

       “Jeff, happen to know if Campbell is here this evening?” he asked, already a plan, his next deal as it were, forming in his brilliant mind.

       “Card room.  Losing quite heavily, in fact.”

       Robert pulled Jefferson out of Belle's earshot. “Give him a message for me.  Tell him to present himself tomorrow morning at my residence.  I have a job for him.”

       Jefferson didn't even ask, but turned on his heel to deliver Robert's message.  He wasn't curious, because he knew he'd be invited to the meeting and all would be revealed.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert led Belle down the steps and into the garden, the fragrant blooms lending their perfume to the air.  “Feeling better?”

       Belle rested her head on his shoulder as they ventured deeper along the path.  “A little.  I can't believe I told you about my parents.”

       He dropped a kiss to her brow.  “You're beginning to trust me.  Otherwise, you wouldn't have been comfortable sharing your tale.”  He stopped and turned to face her, a wicked grin curving his thin lips.  “Now, close your eyes and open your mouth.”

       “I beg your pardon,” she said, her eyes widening.

       “I have something for you and you can't have it unless you do as I ask,” he murmured silkily.

       “No.”

       “Trust me,” he coaxed.

       Belle's heart accelerated with anticipation and fear as she eyed him with trepidation.  “I don't know,” she hedged, still uncertain.

       “Trust me.”  Robert moved closer to her, his hands cupping her face, his lips mere inches from hers.  He dropped a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth.  “Trust me.”

       Belle searched his eyes, looking for some clue as to what he was going to do.  “Robbie--”

       “Trust me, Belle,” he whispered against her mouth.

       Belle stepped back, opened her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting with bated breath and cursing herself for putting that much faith and trust into someone she barely knew.  Robert smiled with satisfaction as he placed a chocolate in his mouth and the other in Belle's, then stepped back to see what would happen.

       Her entire demeanor changed as the chocolate touched her tongue.  Her eyes were heavily lidded with desire, her mouth parted on a blissful sigh and she reached for him to steady herself.  Her taste buds screamed in joy as she chewed and she wasn’t able to bite back her soft moan of pleasure.

       Robert grew hard watching her.  “Good heavens, woman!  Do you have any idea what you look like right now?” his said, his voice taking on a husky timbre.

       Belle swallowed the last of the chocolate and slid her hands over his chest and around his neck, nuzzling just under his ear.  Robert shivered and fought for control, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her into him roughly.  “You look like you're in the throes of passion, luv.  Look at me,” he coaxed.

       Belle peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, her eyes full of desire, passion and need for him.  “Kiss me, Robbie.”  He didn't need any further invitation, claiming her lips with all the pent up desire raging through his body.  He could taste the chocolate clinging to her lips and he couldn’t resist sliding his tongue over them, moaning softly as the rich delicacy mingled with her own flavor and he wanted – needed -- more.  She gasped, leaving herself open to his questing tongue, and he reveled in the taste of her as it slid sinuously along her own.  Never had he tasted anything so divine as the girl in his arms.

       She pulled away from him.  “You taste like chocolate,” she breathed against his lips, moaning softly.  She wanted him so badly she felt as though the blood was going to ignite in her veins.  She was losing control, and could feel her emotions leaking from every pore, pouring herself into him.  She had to stop herself..  She had to stop him.  “Robbie.”

       Robert had to stop.  He would _not_ make love to her for the first time in the middle of this garden.  She deserved a nice soft bed and silk sheets, not this.  He mustered up enough control to pull his head back and look into her passion flushed face.  “We have to stop.”

       “I know,” she breathed heavily, resting her face against his shoulder.  “I'm sorry.”

       “For what? Making me lose control?” he asked, his voice shaky.  “I've wanted you since the moment I saw you.  I've been in a state of constant arousal since you came into my life, Belle.”

       Belle relished his embrace, feeling safe and warm, and experienced a new emotion, one she hadn't had or shared with anyone in so long…happiness. She felt a sense of belonging with this man and instead of being frightened by this new feeling, it spread a warm feeling of contentment throughout her, making her want to know him even more. “I want you too,” she whispered breathily, leaning into him, his lips brushing hers and then she was falling forward.

       August had grabbed Robert's shoulder and spun him around, his fist flying forward into the duke’s mouth, knocking him down onto the cobblestones.  “Keep your vile English hands off my sister, Sheffield,” he hissed, his voice venomous.

       Belle knelt beside Robert and pressed a handkerchief to his bleeding lip.  “Are you alright?  I'm so sorry.”

       August grabbed her hand and began pulling her struggling body up the garden path, through the ballroom and into their waiting carriage, leaving Robert fuming at being caught so by surprise that he'd let his guard down.  He wouldn't let it happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I really don’t think August has any clue as to who he’s messing with. Wonder what Robbie has up his sleeve for that wastrel? I’m sure it will be something positively delicious. Belle’s little addiction to chocolate will come more into play soon, so I really hope you enjoyed that bit. As always, questions and comments are always welcome! Thank you to all who reviewed, commented, faved, kudoed, followed, subscribed, etc, etc. You all are the best.


	4. Chapter 4

       Belle had a firm grip on her anger as August roughly handed her up into the carriage to land head first into the cushions.  She could feel the pins holding her hair stab her scalp.  Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she watched him settle himself onto his seat for the short ride back to the Morrison townhouse.  She balled up her anger and cast it toward him, hitting him square in the chest, and as powerful as she was becoming, it was equivalent to a physical blow, causing him to double over gasping for air. It had to be worse because he shared her gift, making him much more receptive to her attack.

       August's eyes were flashing fire when he looked up into hers.  “What the hell was that, Belle?” he asked, his voice wavering.

       Belle just stared back, stubbornly refusing to answer him.  She could still see Robert, in her mind’s eye, lying on the garden path because of her idiot brother.

       “I asked you a question,” he hissed, rubbing at the spot on his chest that still throbbed in irritation.

       “And I choose not to answer,” she retorted, turning her gaze to the passing scenery.  She was afraid that if she looked at him again, she wouldn’t be able to withhold the rage building beneath the surface of her skin.

       August surveyed her, taking in her jumble of emotions, reading her like an open book.  “Do you know what brought me to the garden tonight, Belle?” he asked, leaning his head back wearily.

       Belle didn't answer.

       “I could _feel_ you.  I could feel everything you were feeling and I wasn't even trying!”

       _Well, just. . . shit!_  

       “You are not to see him again, Belle.  I forbid it,” August stated firmly, his eyes boring into her.

       Finally, Belle turned to look at him, crooking an auburn brow in his direction.

       “I mean it, Belle.  You are going to stay away from Sheffield.”  His tone brooked no objection.  “And I'm going to make sure of it.”

       Belle smiled.  “You are such a wonderful brother, Auggie,” she purred sweetly.

       He frowned in confusion. “What?”

       “Why, for the warning, of course,” she practically sing-songed.

       “I didn't…I mean it….I--”

       Belle's smiled morphed into a laugh.  “You forget who you're playing with, August Charles Whitmore.  You will stay out of my affairs or suffer the consequences.  But you will not keep me from Robert.”  She leaned forward and dug her nails into his calf, drawing blood.  “I promise you that.”

       August gritted his teeth against the pain, hating when she used such childish tactics against him and jerked his leg out of her reach, his eyes widening with realization.  “You've fallen in love with a damn Englishman!”

       “Don't be absurd,” she scoffed.  Even though she was starting to have feelings for her duke, August would be the very last person with which she’d share that knowledge.

       “You have.  I can feel it rolling off of you in waves,” he argued.  “You're going to throw our dreams away because you fell in love with that duke,” he whined, his lips pursing into a pout.

       “ _Your_ dreams, brother dear.  Always yours,” she mumbled under her breath as she turned to face the window.  Belle stowed her emotions and frowned.  _Do I love him?  No.  I can't.  Can I?_

       August dropped his head into his hands in despair.  “Deny it all you want, Belle; it's not going to change anything.”  August turned away from her, knowing it was futile to try to talk her out of it.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Jefferson sauntered into Robert's study at nine o'clock the next morning, not bothering to knock, to find Robert making a list of eligible bachelors for his mother's house party. 

       “What of Miss Whitmore's invite?” Jefferson asked, plopping down into a chair in front of Robert's massive oak desk.  The duke simply picked up a sealed envelope from his desk and handed it to Jefferson, Belle's name scrawled across the front in Robert's own hand.

       “And the list I just handed Claude,” he said, referring to his personal assistant, “has the names of twenty gentlemen, either titled, insanely wealthy or both.”  Robert leaned back in his chair and rubbed a finger over his swollen lower lip.

       Jefferson grinned.  “How'd you come by the fat lip?”

       A frown pulled at the corners of Robert's mouth, his eyes darkening.  “August Whitmore caught me ravishing his sister in the Hastings garden last night,” he admitted ruefully.

       Jefferson's brows shot into his hair.  “What happened?  Did you give him what for?” he asked, chuckling.

       “He caught me off guard and belted me one before dragging Belle home.”  And he’d better not have laid a hand on her either, he thought.  He'd hate to have to thrash her brother.  He had a more subtle plan in mind where August Whitmore was concerned.

       “You could always invite him to the club for an hour in the ring,” Jefferson said with a smirk on his full lips.  “Not that Whitmore would survive more than five minutes in the ring with you.”

       “It might not set well with my little dearie if I handicap her brother.  He shall have to be handled delicately.  Now, to business,” Robert began, “How heavily did Campbell lose last night?  I'm going to need something to hold over the bastard's head to get him to do this job for me.”

       Jefferson reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a slip of paper, sliding it across the desk to Robert.  “Thought you might want this, old boy.”

       Robert grinned, wincing at the pain in his lip.  “Campbell's marker.  Wow! He really lost that much?”

       “Yep, and I procured his marker from Adamly.  Thought it would be useful.”

       Robert shook his head.  Jefferson had never failed to come through for him, even before he'd been asked.  He rose from his desk and gave the bellpull a yank, summoning Rivers, his longtime butler to show his guest in.         Lord Ernest Campbell was a short, nondescript man with thinning brown hair and watery eyes. Someone who could easily get lost in a crowd, someone who could blend in and get the job done without arousing suspicion.  “Good morning, Your Grace, Lord Madden.”

       “Take a seat, Campbell,” Robert offered as he slid the marker across the desk toward Campbell, his pounding headache making him dispense with the pleasantries and get right down to business.  “I now own your marker, Ernest.  You do know what that means, do you not?”

       Ernest shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  “Y-Your G-Grace, I swear to you, on my honor, I will make good on it,” he stammered.

       Robert's dark eyes narrowed on him.  “How would you like to make this sum and have me rip up this marker, Ernest?”  The little man froze, not sure he was hearing right.  “In other words, Ernest, I have a job for you.  Do we have a deal?”

       The baron gulped audibly as his gaze swung between the duke and Rochefort, unsettled by their relaxed expressions.  He was wary to enter into a deal with Robert Gold, fully aware that no one ever came out on the better side of a deal with him.  The lure, to have his marker back in his own hands as well as an equal sum, however, was more than he could pass on.  “Just what is it that you require, Your Grace?” he asked warily.

       “I’m certain you’ve heard of the scandal attached to the Whitmore siblings, have you not?” Robert asked, toying with the quill on his desk, occupying his idle fingers.  The man nodded, a puzzled frown, crinkling his brow.  “I want you to travel to America and gather information for me.  I need to know if these rumors are just that or if this scandal is grounded in fact.  A simple fact finding mission, if you will.  We all know you are quite adept in that area, Earnest, and I trust you will not fail me in this,” he said, his voice filled with quiet menace.

       Ernest relaxed and leaned forward, not wanting to miss a word.  “I'm at your service, Your Grace.  I have every confidence in acquiring the information you seek.”

       Robert withdrew a leather portfolio from the top drawer of his desk and slid it across the polished surface.  “I was hoping you would see the wisdom of accepting my offer, Earnest,” he said, a devious smirk curling his thin lips.  “This contains your ticket for passage to Boston on the _Maiden’s_ _Fury_.  Be ready to leave this evening at high tide.  I have commissioned the ship to take you on as its only cargo, Earnest.  It will be at your disposal to return here with all haste.  The captain has assured me, barring bad weather, you should return within eight to twelve weeks, depending on how long it takes for you to complete your task.  There is also a cashier’s check to cover any expenses you incur on your journey.  The details of the scandal have been outlined in the document you have there and should point you in the right direction to begin your search.  Is there anything else?”

       “No, Your Grace, thank you,” the little man said, genuinely grateful for the chance that had been presented to him.  Dismissed, he rose from his chair, bowed respectfully and exited the room as a footman entered with a tea service and refreshments.

       The earl accepted one of the cups and filled a plate with several of the sandwiches before settling in one of the chairs before Robert’s desk.  The duke rolled his eyes as he sipped his own tea, gazing out the window without really taking in the scenery of his back garden, enjoying the respite to think about his lovely girl a mere four blocks away at the Morrison townhouse.

       “We going to the club?” Jefferson asked, his mouth full of thinly sliced turkey and swiss.

       Robert cringed and tossed a linen napkin at his friend.  “Not today.  I have to meet with Lord Cosgrove to iron out the deal for his property in Dover that I’ve had my eye on for awhile and then I have a meeting with my estate manager to review the books.  I also have some correspondence to attend to concerning my new investment in the ship I purchased this morning.”

       “You bought it outright?” Jefferson asked, stunned.  “Since when d’you care about the shipping business?”

       “The captain wasn’t inclined to accept my proposal to carry Earnest to America without a cargo.  Therefore, I tracked down the owner and made him a substantial offer he just couldn’t refuse,” he said, smirking at the memory.  “It was then just a matter of convincing the captain to acquiesce to my wishes.”

       “Too bad Killian wasn’t in port,” the earl said, referring to their former schoolmate and friend from Eton.  He’d gone off to sea instead of furthering his education, much to his father’s chagrin, the viscount cutting his son off without a cent.  Killian had set out to sea without looking back, preferring a life at sea instead of his rightful place as heir to his father’s holdings and fortune.  Too bad the Earl died before he could change his will and Killian inherited everything anyway.  “He would have done it for you no questions asked.”

       “I’m sure he would have, but the point is moot.  Now I’m mired in paperwork and meetings when I’d much rather be spending the morning with Belle.”

       Jefferson’s grin could only be described as bored.  “All work and no play makes Robbie a dull duke.  Can’t you blow off the meeting with your estate manager for an hour at the club?”

       “No, I want to muddle through and be done with this so I may be able to call on her this afternoon for tea.  Perhaps your own investments could benefit from your attention, Jeff,” he said, quirking a knowing brow at the earl.

       Jefferson looked aghast.  “Whyever would I do that when I have you to handle them for me?  I trust you far more than I do my managers.”

       Robert snorted.  He really didn’t mind investing Jefferson’s meager fortune, tripling it in just a few years.  He thrived on the power of a good deal and it seemed that everything he touched turned to gold.  Why not share it with his dear friend?  But it dismayed the duke that Jefferson avoided his ancestral home like the plague because of the ill feelings he harbored for his mother.  After meeting the woman many years ago, he couldn’t say he blamed him.  “You’ll use any excuse to avoid Rochefort,” he said, referring to Jefferson’s country estate.  “And your mother.”

       The earl’s usual boyish features closed off to be replaced by a cold hard mask.  “Yes…that,” he agreed.  “My managers keep me apprised of things, so there is no need for me to leave London.  It’s better this way.”  He set his tea cup back on the tray and rose to his feet.  “Well, since I can’t convince you to accompany me…bad form, that…I’d best be off.”

       Robert’s voice called him back as he reached for the door handle.  “Jeff, do me a favor, would you?  Mr. Whitmore has put in a request for membership at White’s.  See if you might have that delayed.  White owes me a favor.”

       The earl grinned and shook his head.  “And keep my ears open as to anything else I might learn about him?”

       A slow almost feral smile spread over Robert’s face.  “Oh indeed.  But nothing too obvious, dear boy.  Nothing that might upset my little dearie…not at this stage of the game.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle stared down at the book of poetry and read the same line for the fourth time before she snapped it shut in irritation.  She sat curled upon the window seat in the library, her feet tucked beneath her, restless.  It wasn’t often that she couldn’t find peace surrounded by her beloved books.  She sighed, pressing her brow to the cool glass of the window.  Her thoughts were consumed by Robert Gold- Robbie, she corrected- frightened by the wealth of emotion she felt for the enigmatic man.  No matter how much she wished to deny it, August was right…she was falling in love with the duke and she didn’t see any way to stop it.  Did she even want to?

       He made her feel alive and carefree- something she’d never allowed herself to feel before.  She’d never met a man that she felt she could be free to be herself without him judging her solely on her cursed face.  She wanted to be an equal, acknowledged for her wit instead of a mere decoration, and Robert fulfilled that dream.  He talked with her instead of _to_ her as if her thoughts mattered to him.  He was effectively ruining her for any match August may make for her in the future, because she knew she would never find another to compare to him.  And his feelings for her would change in a heartbeat the second he found out about her gift.

       Belle snorted.  Gift…more like a curse.  She’d always known someday she’d have to marry, but never had she once thought of how her empathy would affect her husband.  Frankly, she rather hadn’t much cared.  She groaned, banging her head against the glass.  She cared too much for Robert to subject him to scandal should her secret come out.  He would be ruined, he’d come to hate her and she would have to run.  No, it would be easier to simply enjoy the time she had with him before she was forced to return to her home.  The thought of leaving him made her heart feel like a cold dead stone in her chest and she was forced to blink away the tears that stung her eyes.

       Belle unfolded herself from the window seat as a knock sounded on the library door and Ann- one of the downstairs maids- entered.  “Miss, Lady Morrison just rang for tea and would like for you to join her in the parlor,” the girl said quickly, curtsied and left, leaving Belle to pull herself together in time to face her aunt.

       So lost in her morbid thoughts, she didn’t notice the prickling of awareness at the edge of her consciousness and was therefore taken aback when she walked into the parlor to find Robert seated comfortably on the damask sofa across from her aunt.  Jefferson, who’d accompanied him, however; looked absolutely miserable.  The gentlemen in the room, her brother and uncle included, rose when she entered the room and she realized she’d been the last to arrive, blushing furiously that she’d apparently kept everyone waiting.

       Robert smiled and she winced at the angry cut on his lower lip.  She extended her hand to him, warming considerably as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles- all he was going to get in the crowded room.  “Your Grace,” she said, dipping into a curtsey.

       “Belle, I have repeatedly asked you to call me Robbie,” he scolded gently, letting the entire room know of his intentions towards her with that one statement.

       “Robbie,” she acknowledged through gritted teeth, projecting an outward calm that she was far from feeling.  “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us for tea this afternoon.”

       He cast her a half moon grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief, putting her instantly on alert.  “Actually, I’m not really in the mood for tea.  I was simply desirous of your charming company.”

       Her eyes flared briefly at his boldness and she cringed inwardly as both Regina and August glared daggers at her over Robert’s shoulder.  The air in the room was growing thick with tension and it pressed in on her from all sides until she felt as though she couldn’t breathe.  She had to get out…now!  “Perhaps you’d care to take the air on the veranda?” she asked, hoping he would take the hint.

       Jefferson nearly choked on the bit of scone he was chewing as he caught the meaningful look Robert tossed his way.  Emma’s brows drew low over her eyes as she pressed a cup of tea into the earl’s hands, inquiring after his health.  He cleared his throat and asked, “Lady Emma, might you care to take a stroll on the veranda?” he asked, his grey eyes promising his friend dire retribution.  Why was it he always ended up as Robert’s scapegoat where the Morrison women were concerned? _Damn and blast!_

       Emma stifled a groan as her mother’s lips curled into a predatory smile.  She could practically hear the gears grinding in her head, already choosing the color of the bridesmaid’s dresses.  She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to suffer the earl’s presence for a few minutes.  Anything was preferable to her mother’s company.  “Of course, Lord Madden,” she answered, pasting a polite smile on her face…one she was far from feeling.

       Robert turned and addressed Regina, smirking.  “You will forgive us for stealing your ladies from you of course,” he drawled silkily.  “I’m sure Mr. Whitmore will endeavor to entertain you.”

       Belle groaned at his side as she felt August bristle across the room.  Her uncle Daniel came to the rescue, clapping his nephew on his shoulder.  “Indeed,” he said, passing the plate of scones in August’s direction.

       Before either Regina or August could protest, Robert swept her out through the open french doors, Emma and Jefferson following behind them.  Jefferson led Emma away a discreet distance to provide Robert with the privacy he sought and immediately launched into a myriad of questions about Emma’s interests, knowing he’d have to pass an hour listening to her prattle on about fashion and the latest gossip. _Gah!!_

       Belle narrowed her eyes on the duke, trying to bite back the laughter that threatened to escape.  “You, sir, are incorrigible,” she said, dancing out of his reach to lean against the stone balustrade.

       “But you like me anyway, dearie,” he purred, stalking closer and capturing her hand to drop a lingering kiss to her palm.

       Delicious tingles traveled up her arm, radiating from his lips on her flesh and she captured her lower lip between her teeth to quell her moan. 

       “You do, don’t you, my Belle?” he asked, his dark gaze locked with hers, his voice a warm caress as he closed the distance between them, his thumb drawing tiny circles against the sensitive flesh of her wrist.

       She nodded, looking away from his penetrating stare.  “You know I do,” she murmured, so close now she could feel the heat emanating from his body.  She glanced over his shoulder to where Emma chatted with Jefferson, ever mindful that they weren't alone.  “I’m sorry August hit you,” she said, feeling the need to apologize.

       “It’s no matter, love,” he said, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist where her pulse fluttered frantically beneath the skin, his sable eyes sinful pools of need.

       She swayed closer, drifting along the invisible strands that bound them together, mesmerized by the lilt of his voice and the desire she read in his gaze.  “Does it hurt much?” she asked, her voice no more than a whisper.

       “Only when I kiss you,” he murmured, his head dipping lower to brush his lips lightly to hers.  He was thwarted however by the clearing of a throat.  She jerked back as if she’d been burned, glancing over his shoulder to take in Jefferson’s wide eyes as he steered Emma back the other way before she could see them.  His grip tightened on her hand, preventing her from going too far.

       “Robert, stop,” she hissed, tugging on her hand.  “Please, before someone catches us acting inappropriately.”

       His lips curled up in a calculating smile as he pulled her forward, causing her to stumble into him as she lost her balance.  He caught her easily, pressing her against his chest as he loomed over her, curling around her as if to take her into himself and happily cherish her for the rest of his days.  “I’m having a problem seeing the down side of this argument.”

       “Robert, if someone were to see us—“

       The fervent heat in his tone cut her off, leaving her breathless.  “I would have what I want, what we _both_ want.”  His cool fingers splayed over her cheek, caressing her alabaster skin with its rosy blush.  “I know you want me, Belle.”

       She stepped away from him, using his distraction to free her hand.  “You would force me, leave me with no choice but to bend to your will?  How could you claim to care for me if you would do such a thing?” she asked, her eyes filled with hurt and betrayal as she realized just how dangerous he could be when provoked.  His darkness, that part of him he kept hidden from her crept along the edges of her mind and she recoiled, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

       “At this point I would have you any way I could get you.  Why are you fighting me on this?” he asked, exasperated by her constant refusals.

       “You are so used to getting what you want.  Don’t think I haven’t noticed just in the short time I’ve known you,” she snapped, keeping her voice low enough not to be overheard.  “Well, let me assure you, _Your_ _Grace_ , I am not a possession for you to acquire.  If you care for me as deeply as you claim, you should respect my wishes.”

       “And perhaps if you would give me a valid reason for rejecting me, I wouldn’t be tempted to ruin you in order to have you.  I am thirty eight years old, Belle, and in that time I have _never_ proposed to another woman.  That right there should show you the seriousness of my pursuit,” he said, his hands balling into fists at his side to stop himself from grabbing her and giving her a little shake.  “But you’re right, I don’t want you to be forced.  I want you to accept me because you want me every bit as much as I want you.”

       Her eyes smarted with unshed tears and she was forced to turn away from him, unable to look at the fury, confusion and yes…pain, in his sable gaze.  “I can’t,” she whispered.  “It would ruin you to marry someone like me.  I can’t- I _won’t_ \- do that to you.”

       “You’re just being stubborn.  There’s nothing in your past- including this ridiculous scandal- that could touch me.”  He sighed, seeing her shoulders stiffen and he raked a frustrated hand through his hair.  He gentled his tone and placed his hands gently on her shoulders, running them ever so softly over her upper arms.  “Belle, you cannot deny this attraction between us.  Marry me.  Let me worry about what may or may not come of our association.  We can be happy together if you allow it.”

       Belle surreptitiously brushed at the lone tear that trickled over her cheek as she shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  The most I can offer you is friendship.  I’ll be returning to Portland soon and I cannot give you false hope that there can ever be anything more between us.”

       “Ah, but there already is, my dear…more than you realize.  I will just have to prove it to you,” he said, determination dying his tone.

       “Robbie…”

       “I can love you, Belle…if you let me.  Whatever objections you have…we can find a way past them.  It’s your choice to grab happiness with both hands or simply let it pass you by,” he said, trying to make her see reason.

       Fueled by her desire to protect him, she turned to face him.  “I won’t change my mind, Robbie, and if you can’t accept that, I don’t see how we can even be friends.”

       “Belle, love…”

       “Goodbye, Robert.”  She turned on her heel and fled from the veranda, her shoulders stiff, projecting an outward calm she was far from feeling.  She needed to escape before she lost her composure and let him see the despair that had taken root in her.  She closed off her emotions so she couldn’t feel the hope he had for their future, the love and desire that threatened to break through her resolve.

       He watched her go, his stomach churning as if live eels had wormed their way into his vital organs.  He’d laid himself bare before her and still she’d rejected him.  Emma left Jefferson and hurried after her cousin, leaving the earl free to make his way over to him.

       “She still said no, eh?” Jefferson asked in a quiet tone, leaning back against the balustrade.

       “Indeed,” the duke murmured, his gaze still focused on the last place he’d seen her.  “I will just have to double my efforts.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       His face was schooled into a stoic mask.  Anyone who didn’t know him would think he was just lost in thought.  Those who did, however; would take one look at the tight lines around his eyes and mouth and the muscle ticking dangerously in his jaw and run as far and fast as possible to escape his notice before his wrath could be unleashed upon them.

       He stared down at the markers in his hand without really seeing them and reached blindly for his tumbler of scotch, his only comfort over the past few days.  Belle refused to see him.  The first time, the morning following their argument, he’d arrived at the Morrison townhouse to take her riding in the park only to be told that she wasn’t feeling well.  He could understand that, assuming she was either still upset with him or had fallen victim to England’s seasonal dampness.  He hoped it was the former.  He’d sent her a gift of herbal tea and a short note expressing his heartfelt wishes that she recover quickly.  It had been returned unopened.  That had caused him to suspect her brother’s hand in it, another attempt to keep them apart.  However when he sent it off again with a footman, with the express instructions to deliver it directly into her hands, he knew that wasn’t the case.  His footman had sadly shaken his head, fearing the duke’s wrath, and said she’d refused it personally.

       The following morning, he’d met with more of the same, this time her excuse was that she was out shopping with August and Emma.  Still he hadn’t let his temper over her stubbornness get the better of him.  She was to attend the Edgewood masque that evening and he had every intention of coaxing her out of her pique.  He was rather put out when her family arrived for the gala.- August Whitmore included- and no Belle.  She was well and truly avoiding him and it didn’t sit well with him at all.  He would prefer her fiery ire rather than this cold silence.  Abigail had been less than pleased when he’d left the Edgewood’s ballroom to spend the remainder of the evening at the club with Jefferson drinking himself into a stupor where the earl was forced to escort him home.

       Now as he sat at his desk, his upset had slowly built up into a seething rage.  This went far beyond stubbornness on her part, but his rage would not help him now.  He needed to woo her back into what was beginning to blossom between them before his premature marriage proposal had put a damper on things.  For a certainty, blackmailing her into submission was _not_ the way to go, he thought ruefully as he tucked her brother’s markers away in his desk drawer.  Jefferson had dropped them off earlier in the day while he’d been meeting with his tailor, leaving them on his desk with a hastily jotted note of “Hope this helps.”

       He glanced up at the clock on the mantle above the hearth and rose to his feet, smoothing his hand over his black frockcoat.  Surely she wouldn’t again miss another of the _ton_ parties—it wouldn’t look well for Regina, after all, as her sponsor—and she wouldn’t want to do anything to upset her dear aunt.  Jefferson had promised to meet him at the Fenworth soiree, so at least he’d have his help should the need arise.  Perhaps his little dearie would even deign to dance with him.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle didn’t even have the desire to glare at Regina when she accepted a dance with Lord Newberry on her behalf.  She just didn’t care anymore.  She’d spent the last two days alone in her room missing Robert.  Her aunt, however; had refused to let it go on, marching into her bedroom with all the grace of a marauding dragon and proclaimed if Belle didn’t get dressed for the Fenworth soiree, she’d drag her out to the carriage in her underpinnings.  Emma had taken to staring at her in confusion and August seemed to be waiting for her to explode from the myriad of emotions she seemed to be projecting to anyone who came near.

       For the hundredth time, she cursed her gift as she smiled weakly up at her dance partner.  She didn’t have to worry about her empathy this evening, having balled it up and tucked it away deep inside until she was numb.  She’d go through the motions and then return to the townhouse to wallow once more in her maudlin thoughts.  As long as she could avoid Robert, she would be fine, she assured herself.  As long as she didn’t have to face those devil dark eyes and roguish smile, she would be fine.  As long as she didn’t have to _feel_ him…

       Belle groaned as Newberry led her from the parquet floor to hand her over to her next partner, seeing Wascom waiting with a satisfied smile.  She wasn’t expecting Rochefort to ingratiate himself between them and intercept the hand Wascom was reaching for. 

       Jefferson arched a brow as he stared the young lord down.  “Buggar off, Eugene,” he said, his voice dripping with boredom. 

       The man scurried off, offering halfhearted apologies to Belle as he glared at the earl.  Belle slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, relaxing for the first time in days.  “Thank you, milord, for saving my feet.  I don’t know how I will ever repay the kindness.”

       Jefferson chuckled, bending low to whisper where only she could hear.  “That’s easy.  Save me from the dragons and their pretty little pieces of fluff and I will clear the debt.”

       Her laughter was rich and warm as she nodded.  “Oh, of course.”

       He led her around the room, stopping every so often to greet his acquaintances, his hand lying warm and comforting over hers.  It took her a while to realize that he was protecting her from the few suitors who hadn’t quite given up on her despite her acerbic tongue and distaste of all things English.  Finally, her fan fluttering away in an effort to battle the stifling air of the ballroom, he led her out onto the terrace.  Instantly, the cool autumn air washed over her, gifting her with its welcome relief.

       “There you are, Miss Belle.  Why don’t you enjoy the air and I’ll fetch us a glass of champagne?” he drawled, grinning boyishly at her.  “I promise not to be but a moment.”

       She returned his smile and nodded, watching him rock back on his heels and reenter the ballroom through the open french doors that dotted the side of the townhouse.  Sighing, she leaned back against a marble pillar and looked up at the clear night sky, unable to resist allowing Robert into her thoughts.  She’d been able to banish him from her mind for a time, but never from her heart and having this moment alone brought him back with remarkable clarity.  Why hadn’t he come tonight?  Even if she couldn’t be with him, she could at least have admired him from afar.

       Her gaze didn’t waver from the starry sky as a flute of champagne was pressed into her hand, but the arm slipping about her waist drew her attention away.  She opened her mouth to scold the earl only to meet Robert’s sable eyes and every coherent thought escaped her as her tightly restrained gift escaped her grasp and opened to him, welcoming him into its embrace.  “Robbie…”

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Cliffhanger? Seriously? Yeah, I know I’m evil.


	5. Chapter 5

       Belle gulped down her champagne, upending the glass and taking down the last drop in an effort to buy herself time to work through her muddled thoughts when all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and kiss him with all the pent up longing she’d suffered during their separation.  She swayed, her vision blurring and the glass fell from her hand as she clutched at his arm to steady herself.

       Robert slipped his arms about her waist and moved her away from the broken glass, reveling in the feeling of having her in his arms again.  “Easy, love.  You shouldn’t drink so fast,” he scolded gently, smiling down into her cerulean eyes.  He pressed his brow to hers, nuzzling her nose with his own, his lips a mere inch from hers, but he refrained from kissing her, unsure if she would come to her senses and push him away.

       Belle melted against him, every one of her good intentions to protect her heart deserting her against the onslaught of his emotions sweeping through her, warming her blood and making her heart race.  “I missed you,” she whispered, her breath fanning against his lips.

       He brushed his lips to hers, a feather light touch meant to tease.  “I missed you as well, my darling Belle.  It’s been torture being away from you.”  He lifted his head, his eyes searching the darkness for somewhere that would afford them a bit of privacy.  Unfortunately the Fenworth townhouse did not boast a lovely garden for them to lose themselves in and he would have to resort to other measures if he wanted a moment with his beloved without having to worry about the prying eyes of the _ton’s_ most notorious gossips.  “Come, my Belle, we can’t stay here.”

       “No, I don’t suppose we can,” she said, giggling.  She unclenched her hands and smoothed out the wrinkles she’d made in his lapels, swaying again.  She felt strange, unsure if she felt so light headed due to the champagne she’d drunk that evening or the sheer happiness that radiated from the duke.

       His brow furrowed as he led her along the veranda until he came to an open door, muted light spilling out into their path.  “Belle, just how much have you had to drink tonight?” he asked when she hiccupped.

       Belle arched a brow at him as he led her into the room and pulled the french doors shut behind them, locking it to ensure their privacy.  “I’ll have you know, I’ve only had three glasses.” *hiccup* “I hope you aren’t institu…insula…insinuating that I might be drunk,” she slurred slightly, frowning when she couldn’t get the right word to fall from her perplexing tongue.

       “Of course not, dearest,” he said dryly, moving to the study door and making sure it was locked as well.  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”  He stalked towards her slowly, feeling slightly guilty for taking her away from the ball.  The room was dark aside from the muted glow from the fire and it illuminated her ivory skin until it shone like a beacon of sin, luring him in to taste.  Scorching heat began at the base of his spine to travel through his body until it settled in his groin as his eyes roamed over her.  If he didn’t know any better, he would think Regina had loaned her the pale lavender ball gown with its low bodice, her breasts nearly spilling over the top.  The only decoration at her throat, an amethyst pendant surrounding by diamonds.  Simple and elegant like his darling girl.

       Her lower lip trembled as she reached for him, her hands sliding along his chest until she could wrap her arms about his neck.  “I’m sorry for sending you away,” she said, her eyes glistening in the firelight.

       “You’ve reconsidered my proposal?” he asked, surprise dying his tone in shades of disbelief.  She’d been so adamant in her refusal, he found it hard to believe that she’d change her mind about it after only two days.

       Her shoulders drooped as she felt hope spring to life within him.  “No, I haven’t changed my mind.  I can’t marry you, Robbie…but I don’t want to be here without you either.”

       Robert swallowed his disappointment at yet another rejection, and pressed his brow to hers.  “What do you suggest we do?” he asked, his hands curving over the gentle outline of her hips and pulling her against him.  His need was too great, their parting too long, not to find relief in her arms.

       Belle moaned as he gathered her close, the evidence of his desire for her pressing into her belly.  Warning bells sounded somewhere in the back of her muddled mind and she shoved them away as she pulled him closer.  She would much rather focus on his warm lips trailing along her jaw, his hot breath fanning against her ear and…good heavens, she thought, the rasp of his tongue swirling a delicate design against her rapidly fluttering pulse.

       “I don’t care.  I just know I need to be with you,” she gasped as his sharp teeth nipped against her collarbone.

       She could feel the edge of the desk press into the back of her thighs as he leaned into her, bending her back over the polished surface, his body flush with hers as his arm wrapped itself firmly about her waist.  His fingertips were feather light as he traced along the edge of her bodice, his lips returning to tease the corner of her mouth.  “Tell me what you want, Belle,” he whispered, his tongue gliding along her lower lip.

       “You,” she said, tears glistening in her eyes as her hands slid from his hair to cradle his face in her palms.  “But I can’t have you.  It’s not fair to you when I’ll be leaving soon.”

       Her voice dripped with pain and his heart swelled with love for her.  There was no chance he would ever let her go.  She was in his blood, in his heart and in his soul now, burrowed so deeply he would never be free of her.  If she was so intent on returning to Portland to clear her brother’s name, he would accompany her and put himself at her disposal, but _never_ would he be without her again.  He nuzzled into her palm, dropping an open mouthed kiss to the sensitive flesh, savoring her touch.

       “We’ll make it work,” he croaked, his voice choked with emotion. “I let you keep me away once, Belle, but I won’t allow it again.  You’re mine now.”

       “Yours,” she affirmed, a defiant gleam glowing within the depths of her eyes—her promise, her vow that she’d always belong to him.  “Even if it is for just a little while.”

       _Forever,_ the word echoed in his mind.  Eventually, he would overcome her protests and have her accept his proposal.  He wasn’t concerned with whatever it was she was holding back from him, it would be a small price to pay to have her at his side forever.  He was careful not to mark her lovely throat with his teeth, no matter the temptation, as he worshipped her with lips, teeth and tongue.  Oh, but what he would give to have her blatantly flaunt the fact that she belonged solely to him in such a primitive manner. 

       However, he wasn’t quite as cautious as his hand plunged into her hair, sending pins scattering across the desk as he destroyed her elegant coiffure, his fingers gently stroking the nape of her neck.  Well, there would be no returning to the ball now, he thought with satisfaction.  He would have to remember to pat himself on the back later at the subtle ploy to keep her away from the wastrels who still sought to garner her favor.  They would never have the pleasure of seeing her like this, tasting her, touching her as he did, her beautiful face flushed with desire for him alone.

       His lips ghosted along the edge of her bodice and he delighted in the shiver that passed through her.  He forced himself to take a deep breath as he pressed his straining arousal against her hip, his own moan joining the delicious little sounds burbling from her throat.  He wasn’t certain how, but voices in the corridor outside the darkened study permeated his lust-addled brain and he pulled her up from the desk, retaining his grip about her waist.

       “Why’d you stop?” she asked in a breathless whisper as he led her over to the french doors, unlocked them and ushered her back out into the night.  “Robbie, wait, where are we going?”

       “Trust me, dearie,” he said, urging her to follow him.

       She nodded, giving herself over to his care, following blindly.  They rounded the corner of the veranda, sticking close to the shadows.  If they were to protect her already somewhat dubious reputation, it wouldn’t pay to run into anyone.  Yet run into someone they did.  Thankfully it was only Jefferson.

       “Oh my,” the earl chuckled.  “I take it you’ve mended your riff?”

       Belle blushed scarlet, biting her lip as she used her free hand to gather her long chestnut locks over one shoulder.  Robert glared at his friend.  “You could say that, but let’s not as I am pressed for time.  I need to see her home before anyone sees her like this,” he whispered in an aside.

       “Already one step ahead of you there, dear boy.  Her brother is looking for her and he’s not happy,” he said, ducking into the shadows with them behind a large potted fern as one of the french doors burst open to emit a pair of giggling debutantes.  “I had my carriage brought around front.  My driver is at your disposal.”

       “I do _not_ like being in your debt,” Robert said, the corners of his mouth twisting up into a wry expression.

       “So you keep telling me.  Go!” he hissed, catching a glimpse of Emma’s eggshell blue gown as she opened a door near them.  He emerged from behind the fern and hurried to her side, taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm, leading her away from Robert and Belle. “How lovely you look in that particular shade of blue, my darling Lady Morrison.”

       “Rochefort, now is not the time for your flattery.  Belle’s missing,” Emma said, trying to free her hand.

       “I assure you, Belle is fine.  She said she had a headache and I offered her the use of my carriage.  She’s probably already tucked into bed with a headache cordial and a cup of tea,” he drawled, leading her back into the ballroom.

       Emma wanted to protest as he led her out onto the dance floor to the strains of a waltz, but the iron grip he had about her hand prevented her escape.  She didn’t like being this close to the earl; he made her stomach all squirmy and having his hands on her just seemed to intensify the feeling.  She looked up into his smiling grey eyes and had to take a deep calming breath.  Surely, Lissette had laced her corset too tightly, she thought, it having nothing to do with how charming and handsome he was.

       “It’s quite unlike her to leave without telling August at the very least,” she said, concentrating on keeping her steps even with him.

       “He’ll get over it, I’m sure,” he said, twirling her about and thanking every deity he’d ever heard of that her footwork was better than her mother’s.  He felt her shudder and looked down into her emerald eyes, something lurking there that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  “Besides, you don’t exactly care for your American relations all that well anyway.  What is it, little girl?”

       She didn’t like his condescending tone, but she answered nonetheless.  “Belle’s not so bad, but I don’t care for August.”

       “We can’t always choose our family, dear,” he said with a dry chuckle, thinking ruefully of his own.

       “There’s something off about him.”

       “I think you might be right,” he murmured thoughtfully, leading her to the edge of the floor to turn her over to her next partner, wondering over the reason his hand tingled from her touch rather than her unfounded dislike of her cousin.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Caden, Jefferson’s driver, waved the footman away and held the door of the elegant carriage open for the duke and his new lady.  He smiled broadly as Robert pressed several coins into his hand and assisted the little beauty into the conveyance.  He hadn’t kept his job for as long as he had without knowing a thing or two about being discreet and the added tip was a sure sign that the duke wished for him to take the long way home.

       “Where to, Your Grace?” he asked in a hushed whisper, just in case any of the lingering footman were inclined to eavesdrop.

       “Morrison’s townhouse on Avondell,” he instructed, giving the man a pointed look before he followed Belle into the dark interior of the carriage and settled himself comfortably across from her.

       Robert waited until they were free of the long drive and back out onto the street before he reached across the minute distance and hauled her onto his lap.  She squeaked in surprise at his rough handling of her, but soon melted into his gentle embrace, resting her head against his shoulder.  “Did I hurt you, sweetheart?  It was not my intention,” he said, a worried frown marring his brow.

       “Of course not.  You just startled me,” she sighed, curling her fingers around the knot of his intricately tied cravat.  She made quick work of the snowy scrap of silk and tossed it onto the seat next to him.  Just that one little difference helped alleviate some of his stuffiness, made him seem more human and she smiled appreciatively as she was able to slide her fingertips over that exposed skin

       He caught her hand and pressed a searing kiss to the pulse point in her wrist, nipping and nibbling along the sensitive flesh of her forearm to kiss the inside of her elbow.  “I really should have thought of this before,” he murmured, continuing upwards in his quest to feast upon her flesh and nipping lightly at her shoulder.

       “Thought of what?” she asked, whimpering softly as he caught her earlobe between his teeth and tugged gently.

       “We should spend more time taking long rides in the carriage.  It’s dark,” he whispered, his breath causing goosebumps to erupt along her arms.  “We have all the privacy we need.” His tongue rasped against her collarbone and she shivered, tossing her head back to give him better access to her neck.  “To talk,” he whispered, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat.  “To touch.”

       Belle gasped as his fingers brushed lightly against her breast, his touch burning her through the layers of silk and lace that covered her.  “Robbie…”

       “Shh, my Belle.  I’m not planning on ravishing you in this carriage,” he said, pulling her head to rest against his shoulder as he willed his desire to cool.

       “You don’t?” she asked in surprise.  There was no mistaking his desire for her, not when it was pressing so firmly into her thigh.

       He stroked his hand over her hair, the locks sliding sinuously through his fingers as he met her gaze in the dim light.  “Oh no, love.  When I have you…and make no mistake, dear girl; I will have you…it will be in my bed surrounded by all the comfort you could hope for.  As much as I enjoyed touching you in old Fenworth’s study, I would never settle for something so crude, nor a quick tumble in a carriage.  You are far too precious to me to do such a thing.

       Warmth spread through her blood, centering in her chest over her heart and traveling out to her limbs.  She didn’t need her gift to allow her to feel the love he sheltered in his heart, because she could hear it clearly in his words.  “Whatever are we going to do, Robbie?  How can we make this work?” she asked, frustrated over her lack of answers.  “The more time I spend with you, the harder it will be for me to leave you when the time comes.”

       “Leave that to me, love.  Concentrate on the present and not on our future separation.  Let us enjoy each other in the time we have, yes?”  He molded his lips to hers, drawing her lower lip into his mouth, sucking gently.  “Just don’t shut me out.”

       “I won’t; I promise.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle focused her gaze on the street, watching the foot traffic that passed in front of the townhouse.  Or at least she tried.  Her mind wasn’t far from the enigmatic man she’d fallen in love with.  She’d hardly spent any time at all with her family over the last three days, nearly every moment spent with her Robbie.  They’d almost fallen into a routine.  He’d take her riding in the park in the mornings, usually accompanied by the earl and either Emma or August, assuring she was properly chaperoned.  Although she had to admit Jefferson could in no way be considered a valid chaperone.  August seemed to do his best to hover over her and make sure Robert didn’t come near enough to even hold her hand, much to her frustration.  And Emma…she had to wonder over her cousin.  The girl seemed to be an entirely different person away from her mother’s influence, sweet, kind, witty and even charming instead of the stiff, indrawn girl that followed her mother’s dictates without even a blink.

       He usually took her to the Albany for lunch in the hotel dining room where he most often conducted his business dealings.  She didn’t like it that she was taking him away from his work, but she couldn’t begrudge the fact that he was postponing important matters in order to spend time with her.  It also gave her some insight into the man behind his title.  He said working through lunch was no hardship and a small price to pay to have her at his side for the entire day.  Afterwards, they would pass the time with a carriage ride, open if the weather permitted, as he did his best to show her the city.  They would then return to the townhouse for tea time, something Regina insisted upon.  It was usually highly entertaining watching Jefferson verbally spar with the viscountess.  Then it was just a simple matter of parting for a few hours before seeing him again at one of the many events so prevalent during a London season.

       But she had been right.  The more time she spent with him, the more she wished she could accept his marriage proposal and never have to leave his side.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Lady Regina Morrison sat on the damask sofa in her parlor, chaperoning Emma and her beau, all the while glowering at Belle where she stood looking out the front window.  Belle didn't have to turn to know this, feeling the woman glaring daggers between her shoulder blades, but she really didn't care what Regina thought.  She didn't care what August or Emma thought either.  Robert was the only one who mattered.  Why did she have to fall in love with him? Love was supposed to be beautiful, not this gut wrenching pain she was suffering through.  But, she realized, it was only painful to be apart from him.  And it was all for nothing, and she would continue to suffer.  Because even if she could give up the idea of going home, she still couldn't be with him.  He would never want an empath for his duchess.  It would be awful for him should anyone learn her secret.  Did they still burn witches at the stake in this country, because should her secret come to light, she’d surely be mistaken for one.

       Belle let the lace curtain fall back into place and moved to sit beside her aunt, pouring herself a cup of tea.  Maybe the warm brew would revive her.  She hadn't been able to sleep last night with visions of Robert Gold dancing in her head, his touch, his kisses…his chocolate kisses.  She shivered, drawing another frown from her aunt.

       “A new batch of invitations, my lady.”

       Regina took the envelopes from the footman and started to go through them.  She handed two envelopes to Belle and one to Emma.  Belle's breath caught in her throat when she recognized Robert's bold scrawl.  Hurriedly she rose to her feet and moved away from Regina so her aunt wouldn't try reading them over her shoulder.

 

The first was an invitation:

 

_Miss Belle Whitmore and Mr. August Whitmore_

_You are hereby invited to a house party at my estate in Sussex on the twelfth of June to extend the weekend.  I look forward to having you join us in the country._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Robert E. J. Gold, Duke of Sheffield_

Belle looked up at Emma's delighted squeal.  “Mother, we've been invited to a house party at Sheffield!”

       Regina took the invitation from Emma with shaking hands and read it for herself.  “The dowager is having the party, dear.  She must be really serious about finding Sheffield a bride.” She scowled at her niece, still of the firm belief that the girl was deluding herself that the duke would ever want her as anything more than a plaything.  “This is wonderful news.”

       Belle returned to her seat next to Regina on the sofa and asked sweetly, “When will we be leaving for Sussex?”

       Regina tried really hard to look disappointed for Belle, but failed miserably.  She was delighted that Belle’s name hadn’t been included on the invitation.  “I'm sorry, my dear.  Your name wasn't on the invitation.  I guess you'll just have to sit this one out, Belle.”  Belle handed Regina her invitation as well, and bit back an evil grin as she watched the color drain from Regina's face.

       _I'm so horrible!  The devil made me do it!_

She was sure the vein in Regina's head would burst from the pressure of her clenched teeth and bulging eyes alone. .“I suppose I will be going, Aunt.  Especially since my invitation was personally written by the duke himself and not the dowager duchess.  And I wouldn't want to disappoint. . . Robbie.”

       Belle clutched both envelopes to her chest and, with a wink at her aunt, swept from the room.  She ran all the way to her room and locked the door behind her before she opened the second envelope. 

 

 

_My darling Belle,_

_It is my dearest hope that you will join me at Sheffield weekend next.  I am leaving today to begin preparations for the party.  It will be agony if you aren't there to share it with me.  Please send me your answer with all haste._

_With my tender regards,_

_Robbie_

       A sigh full of longing escaped her parted lips.  Tender regards.  She hadn't read his emotions wrong after all.  Pulling a slip of paper from her dresser, she set to writing.

 

_My dearest Robbie,_

_You may depend upon my presence to help alleviate your agony next weekend at Sheffield. *grin*  Regina is beside herself with envy that my invitation came directly from you.  I wish you could have seen her reaction._

_Love,_

_Belle_

Twenty minutes later, Nora delivered another missive to Belle.

 

       _I want to see you before I go.  I cannot abide the thought of being apart from you for so long without seeing you one last time._

_Robbie_

_And one last kiss?_

_Belle_

_Bloody hell, woman!  Yes_ _…_ _One last kiss._

_Robbie_

_Meet me in the garden in an hour._

_Belle_

_I'll bring some chocolates._

_Robbie_

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Forty five minutes later, Belle slipped out of the french doors in the parlor that led to Regina's prized flower garden.  Regina and Emma had already left for whatever party they were attending this evening and August and Uncle Daniel were off to the club.  No doubt to gamble, the wastrels.  The longer August remained in London, the more English he became, much to her disappointment and his complete and utter denial.  She had the entire townhouse to herself.  She could stay in the garden with Robert as long as she wished without any interference from her family.  She smoothed her hands down her skirt and took a deep cleansing breath to calm her racing heart.

       Belle stopped beneath an apple tree and pulled her shawl more tightly around herself, trying to ward off the cool evening air.  She was beginning to feel a tickle at the edge of her senses.  He was close.  The breath caught in her throat as his arms slid around her waist from behind and she was hit with the wealth of his emotions, his lips moving straight to the curve of her neck, trailing fire to her ear.

       “I've missed you, dearie,” Robert breathed huskily in her ear.

“Robbie,” she said softly, turning in his arms and sliding her hands up his chest and along his nape to twine in his hair, pulling his lips down to claim hers.

       She moaned, unable to stop the sound. _He's been eating chocolates._

Her desire increased and he winced; she'd forgotten all about his still tender lip.  She pulled away and kissed the corner of his mouth.  “I'm sorry.  I forgot.  Does it hurt much?” she asked, kissing him there where he was hurt, trying to reign in her desire.

       “Not anymore,” he breathed against her mouth, his breath fragrant with chocolate.  “I've brought you a gift,” he murmured, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around her waist as he withdrew a box from his jacket pocket.

       Belle sighed with pleasure when he removed the top of the box and revealed a dozen assorted chocolates.  “You just want to watch me eat them,” she teased.

       Robert kissed the corner of her mouth, lovely nibbling kisses that enflamed her and made her toes curl up in her slippers.  “What I want, my lovely Belle, is to watch you eat them in my bed,” he said, taking full possession of her mouth.  His hands slid down past her gently rounded hips and cupped her heart shaped ass, pulling her tightly against his arousal.

       _Too much! Too much! Too much!_  Her inner voice was screaming.  _Damn!_   She reeled in her gift and pulled her lips away from his with a groan to rest her head against his chest, gasping for breath.

       Robert stroked her hair, winding his fingers in its long length, waiting for his desire to cool.  He wondered if it would ever cool for her.  Belle Whitmore was all he would ever want.  He hadn't realized how dead he'd felt inside until she’d come crashing into his life, never felt desire as strong as he did with her.  He knew what happiness was now and he reveled in it.

       Belle tugged on his hand, urging him to sit on the garden bench with her. “Are you alright?” he asked, pulling her back into his arms when they were seated.

       She ducked her head, hiding her eyes from him.  “No.”

       His warm hand cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze.  Belle reached up and brushed his hair away from his beautiful dark eyes.  Her heart skipped a beat as she lost herself in those soul sucking eyes. “Why?” he asked, brushing his lips to hers.

       She knew she really shouldn't, but she was listening to her heart not her head.  Belle reached over and plucked a chocolate from the box on the bench next to him and bit into it, popping the other half into Robert's mouth.  Chocolate covered raspberry cream.  It was sinful.  And all she could think of was what he would taste like when he kissed her again.  She didn't even have to answer him, because he already knew just exactly why she wasn't _'alright'_.  Because he felt it too.

       And when he claimed her once again with that heavenly mouth, she knew she would never eat chocolate again without thinking of him.  Because chocolate would never taste good to her again unless it was mingled with his lips, his breath, his tongue, joining with her own.  His lips trailed a path along her jaw to the sensitive flesh beneath her ear.

       “Marry me,” he whispered.

       She could have wept.  “No.”

       “Why?” he asked, his brow knitting into a frown.

       She smoothed his brow with her fingertips and trailed them down to cup his face.  “I just can't.  It's complicated.”  With all her heart she wished she could give him the answer he wanted, but she couldn't bear to see the horror on his face when he found out what she was.  It was bad enough that she was part gypsy.  She couldn’t bear the thought that she could ruin him.

       Robert lowered his face until it was mere inches from hers, his eyes deep pools of black, boring into hers.  “I will not give up, Belle.  You _will_ be my wife.”

His kiss, when it came, was so filled with love, gentleness and desire, she melted in his arms, molding herself to him.  She could feel his heart.  He was so open to her, he was pouring all the love in his heart straight into her and she couldn't stop the tears from escaping her closed lids to roll over his hands still holding her face.

       This was a new one.  He'd never made a woman cry with a kiss before.  “Why are you crying, love?” he asked, pulling his lips away from hers to kiss away her tears.

       Belle pressed her face into his neck and wrapped her arms around his waist, not wanting to let him go.  She wanted him forever and her heart was breaking because she knew she couldn't have him.

       “Tell me.”

       “You have to go, Robbie.  You're leaving tonight for Sheffield,” she said softly.

       “Tell me,” he pressed.  “Tell me why you're crying.”

       Belle raised her tear filled cerulean eyes to his, her voice breaking. “Because I love you, Robbie Gold.  And my heart is breaking because I can't give you what you want.  I can never be your wife, and I can't even tell you why.”

       Robert's arms crushed her to him, so relieved that she was finally admitting what he’d known for days, yet it troubled him that she wouldn't have him for her husband.  “It's alright, love.  I won't press you now for an answer.”

       Belle pushed away from him.  “Robbie, I can't ever.”

       Of course, he wouldn't take no for an answer.  “And I refuse to give up.”  His grin was wicked as he pulled her back into his embrace.  “This weekend is going to be the most fun I've had in years.”

       Belle wrapped her arms around his neck and let him pull her closer.  “You're incorrigible.”

       “I know,” he smiled against her lips.  “But you love me anyway.  It's going to be an agonizing week.  At least staying at the townhouse I could come to visit you anytime I wished and see you at the balls and parties every evening.  Now I'm going to be stuck at Sheffield for an entire week, miles away from you.”

       “But just think of when I arrive at Sheffield and can be in your arms once again.”  She squealed as he hugged her tighter, her feet leaving the garden path as he lifted her against him.  “Robbie!”

       His voice was husky against her ear.  “I don't want to leave you.”

       “You have to.  If you don't go, I can't miss you.  If I can't miss you, what kind of reunion can we have?” she teased, her fingers curling in his hair.

       Robert cupped her face in his warm hands and kissed her one last time before leaving the garden.  “I love you,” he whispered and then he was gone.

       Belle pushed her gift away from her as far as it would reach, holding his heart to her until she was sure he had gone.  She felt like dying inside, the loneliness overwhelming her.  He loved her, she loved him.  They were destined to be together, she felt it in her heart. . . and his.  How could she fight against something so powerful? How could she break his heart?  How could she reject him, sending him into the arms of another?

_Over my dead body!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed, my lovelies! The house party is next and that’s where the real fun begins. See you next week!
> 
> Thank you AquaJasmine23 for betaing!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Tuesday morning, sunlight streamed through the parlor windows eliciting a groan from Belle.  Her head pounded to the tempo of the numerous feet trampling on the floor above as the household readied to leave for Sussex.  Regina and Emma were at the dressmaker's for last minute fittings to the ball gowns that had been ordered Friday.  Belle frowned, thinking she would have to wear her silver gown that she'd worn previously.  As moody as Regina was over Belle's invitation, Belle knew better than to ask for a new gown.

       Belle sighed and poured herself another cup of tea.  It had been three days since Robert had left her in the garden.  Three agonizingly long days filled with loneliness and boredom.  She longed to be in his arms again, to feel his love, his passion.  She closed her eyes and willed his image to her mind. 

       “Daydreaming, Belle?” August asked, flopping unceremoniously onto the sofa next to her. 

       Belle quirked a brow at him and sipped her tea.  He was entirely too smug this morning to suit her bad mood.  “What do you want, Auggie?”

       August returned her look and smirked.  “Just a cup of tea, luv.”

       _Uh-oh.  She knew that look._

       Belle poured him a cup and dropped in his required three sugar cubes.  August liked a little tea with his sugar.  “Hmm,” she said, waiting for him to get to the point.

       “Are you packed,” he asked, clinking the spoon against the side of the cup, knowing how the sound would irritate her.

       “Yes.”

       “I was thinking.”

       _We'll be here awhile._

       “All those rich snobby folk will no doubt be bringing all sorts of valuables with them.  And--”

       Belle shot to her feet in alarm.  “You can't possibly think of thieving from Robert's guests.  I won't have it, August Charles.”

       August rose to face his sister, his nose inches from her.  “You've already deserted me, Belle.  What would it matter to you?  If I got caught you would be completely blameless.”

       “That's not the point,” she hissed.  “You've got to give up this scheme of yours.”

       “Why?  I've made quite a bundle.”

       “Yes, what you haven't lost at the gaming table,” Belle argued.  Their eyes clashed, neither willing to give over.  She decided to try a different tactic.  “Please, Auggie.  They will hang you if you're caught.  I don't want to lose you, too.  I'll be all alone,” she pleaded with him.

       “Fine,” he agreed with a shrug.

       “Promise me,” she implored.  She wanted to tell him about Robert’s offer to help them, but she knew August would decline and probably scold her for revealing too much to someone of such a short acquaintance.

       A footman entered the parlor, preventing August from answering and placed a package on the low table before the sofa.  “For you, Miss Whitmore.  His Grace's messenger is waiting to deliver your reply when you're ready, Miss.”

       “Thank you, Anthony.”

       Belle's hands shook as she removed the envelope attached to the parcel.

Her heart leapt at the sight of Robert's bold elegant scrawl.

 

       _Open the parcel first, dearie._

_Robbie_

 

       Belle's brow knit into a puzzled frown.  August snatched the note from her.  “Now he's sending you gifts?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on her.

       She ripped the paper from the parcel and lifted the lid, her eyes widening.  It was the most beautiful ball gown she'd ever seen.  Lavender silk, so soft to the touch, cap sleeves and an empire waist.  The height of fashion.  “Oh, Auggie,” she breathed, lifting it from the box and holding it against herself.  “Isn't it the most lovely thing you've ever seen?”

       August snorted.  “You think those are real diamonds sewn into the band beneath the bodice?” he asked, his eyes studying the gown avariciously.

       Belle snatched the gown out of his reach.  “Don't even think about it,” she warned.  Matters didn't improve when Regina chose that moment to breeze into the parlor, halting midstride, her eyes falling on the gown in Belle's hands.

       “Where did you get that?  I thought you were bringing the silver gown,” she said accusingly, her eyes wide and filled with what could only be described as pea green envy.

       “Sheffield sent it to her,” August said smugly, waiting and watching in anticipation for his aunt's reaction.

       “Sh—Sheffield?” she stammered.

       Belle stiffened, refusing to be present for another of her aunt's tantrums.  She was well aware of Regina's disgust over Robert's interest in Belle.  She placed the gown back in the box, noticing that there was another box as well as a letter lying in the bottom.

       Belle picked up the box and turned to her aunt.  “I'll just run upstairs and pack this with the rest of my things,” and with that she left the parlor.  She could hear Regina raging at August and asking what he was going to do about it.  She closed her bedroom door and dug into the box for Robert's letter and the smaller parcel wrapped in brown paper.

       A small moan escaped her lips as she ripped the paper from the box and opened it.  Chocolates!  Chocolate covered raspberry cream.  Heat shot through her, remembering Robert's kiss, his taste.  _God's beard!_  Oh, how she wanted him.  She popped a chocolate into her mouth and chewed, replaying his kiss over and over in her mind, the fragile hold she had on her emotions crumbling into dust.

       “Belle!”  August yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

       Belle poked her head out into the hall.  “Sorry!”  She closed the door again and reached for Robert's letter.

 

_My darling Belle--_

_It is my sincerest hope that you will wear this gown at the ball on Saturday.  I had Jefferson procure your measurements from your seamstress so I am certain it will fit you perfectly.  My mother's own seamstress created it just for you, my love._

_Things here are hectic trying to prepare for the party, so I've locked myself in my study.  I may well have to ring Mother's neck before the week is out.  I don't care about the entertainment.  I don't care about the food.  I don't care about her guest list.  All I care about is you, my dearest Belle._

_All I can think of is the way you looked Friday evening in the garden, the way you tasted, the way you smelled like lavender in full bloom.  You are in my heart, my love, forever.  I will not stop until you are mine._

_I am counting the minutes until I can hold you in my arms again, until I can taste your sweet mouth, until I see and feel your desire.  I love you, sweetheart._

_All my love,_

_Robbie_

_PS: Think of me when you eat your chocolates, luv._

      

 

       Belle leaned back against the pillows on her bed, holding Robert's letter to her heart.  _Soon, my love.  Soon._

X*X*X*X*X

Wednesday afternoon, Robert stood at the window in his study at Sheffield reading Belle's response to his letter.

 

_My dearest Robbie--_

_Thank you for the lovely gown.  And yes, I will wear it for you, my love.  I am also counting the minutes until I see you again.  It's agony being separated from you.  There seems to be a hole in my heart that only you can fill and I long to see you again.  I need to feel your arms around me, to take away the despair of our separation._

_I ate my chocolates and am worried that I've lost my taste for them. I remember the way they tasted on your tongue, Robbie, and plain chocolate just doesn't compare.  Do you remember? If I live to be a hundred, I will never forget.  You have invaded my dreams, my every waking thought and I fear I will perish from loneliness until we can be together again._

_I am yours, Robbie Gold, always._

_Belle_

Robert dropped into the leather chair behind his desk and closed his eyes, a soft smile playing at his lips.  He tossed her letter on his desk and ran a hand through his long hair, looking up to watch Jefferson poke his head in the door.

       “Feel like a drink, Robbie?” Jefferson asked, tossing his jacket on the sofa and loosening his cravat before pouring himself a scotch and taking a seat in one of the chairs before Robert's desk.  “Bad news?” he asked, indicating the letter lying open on the desk.

       Robert grinned.  “No.”

       “Just wondering.  You look like you're in pain.”

       “Not that kind of pain,” he admitted with a rueful twist to his lips.

       Curious, Jefferson quirked a dark brow at his friend and snatched up the letter.  His eyes widened as he perused the letter.  “Holy hell, man!  Why can't my lady loves send such scandalous missives to me in the post?  Completely unfair, that,” he said, fanning himself with the letter.

       Robert sat back and smiled.  “Because you haven't found the right lady, apparently.”

       “So what's the problem?  I know you, Robert.  Something's wrong.”

       “She won't marry me.”

       “I beg your pardon.  Why the hell not?”

       Robert rose to pour himself a scotch.  “She won't tell me.  She's got some reason for her refusal, she just won't share it with me.”

       “So what's the plan to get her to say yes, assuming you have one, that is?”

       Robert's eyes darkened with his determination to win Belle's hand.  “Éclairs.”

       Jefferson frowned.  “I beg your pardon?”

       “She got a weakness for chocolates, especially éclairs.  I'm planning on exploiting that weakness.  I'll be engaged before the weekend is over,” he said, his voice soft with warning.  “I don't care if I have to compromise the darling girl to get what I want.  I will have her.”

       Jefferson grinned hesitantly.  “You just met the girl, Robert.  Don’t you think it might be a bit soon to think she’s just going to fall into your arms and agree to marry you?”

       “Why wouldn’t she, Jeff.  She’s already admitted she loves me,” the duke said, pouring himself two fingers of scotch and sitting back in his chair.  “There’s this connection between us.  I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s as if she were meant to be with me and I with her.  I knew the moment I saw her.”

       Jefferson’s eyes widen, never having thought he would see his friend succumb to such a fickle emotion as love.  “You love her,” he said, unable to deny what he saw written so clearly on Robert’s face when he spoke of the American girl.

       “Aye, I do; more than anything,” the duke said, his voice ringing with conviction. “And I realize I must marry.  Mother was right in that.  I want an heir to pass the title to someday, but I also know that I want Belle to share my life with.  She’s touched a part of my soul that I never knew existed and nothing matters if she can’t share a future with me.”

       “Oh, dear boy, you’ve got it bad.  You know Abby’s not going to be happy about this,” Jefferson said, pouring himself a drink as he rose from his chair.

       “She’ll come around.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

 

       “How much farther, Mother?” Emma asked for the fifth time in the last hour.

       Regina cast an irritated glance at her daughter.  “We'll be there soon, dear.  I promise you won't miss anything.”

       Belle quirked a brow and remained silent.  She was sick to death of being confined in the carriage with her aunt and cousin with their Regina’s whining and tension radiating from her younger cousin.  She had balled her emotions into a tight bundle, not wanting to pick up anything at all from those two.  August was the fortunate one, as he'd chosen to ride his stallion behind the carriage.  She still wanted to laugh at the horror on his face when asked if he was going to be riding in the carriage with them.

       “I promise you, dear Belle, there isn't enough whiskey in the world to numb the pain of being stuck in a carriage with our dear relations.”  Belle had to agree with him.  Her nerves had been scraped raw on the nine hour journey through the countryside.  The carriage seemed like it was being drawn by snails instead of the team of matched grays.

       “We should have left earlier, Mother.  I'm sick of this carriage.  It's stuffy--”

       Belle tried to tune them out, but her inner reverie was no better as she thought back to the conversation she’d had that morning with her brother over breakfast…

       _“Auggie, I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching and would it really be so terrible to stay here in England?” she’d asked, her troubled gaze lowered to the food she was absently pushing about on her plate._

_He’d nearly choked on his tea, thankful that Regina and the rest of the family were still readying themselves for their early departure.  “It was always our plan to return home, Belle, to clear my name.  And besides, you’ve always hated this country, bitter because papa was forced to leave due to who he married.  What the hell could have changed in the last two weeks_ _—_ _“_ _His jaw clenched together, his teeth gnashing as he narrowed his eyes, all the pieces falling into place.  “Ah, all becomes clear.  This is about your duke.”_

_“I don’t know what you mean,” she said breezily, reaching for her teacup.  “I just think our prospects are much better here than they would be back home.”_

_August shook his head with a rueful chuckle, the sound grating on Belle’s already frayed nerves.  “No, don’t bother denying it.  You’re enamored of your duke and just desolate and heartbroken at the thought of leaving him,” he sneered.  “What? You think if you stay here in England he’ll want to marry you?  He merely wants to get you in his bed, sister dear.”_

_Heat rose in her cheeks to stain them a vibrant red as she glared at him. “Robbie’s not like that.”_

_“My dear, all men are like that.  You think because he’s a member of the peerage he’ll be any different?  That just makes him worse.  With all that money and power at his fingertips, he thinks he can have anything he wants and you are apparently an easy conquest.”_

_Belle gasped.  “He has done nothing untoward and neither have I, August!”_

_“It didn’t look that way to me when I caught the two of you in the Hastings’ garden,” he snapped, tossing his linen napkin onto his plate and rising to his feet.  “You were all over him like a cheap harlot.  If it had been someone else to come upon you, you would have been ruined!”_

_“It was one kiss!” she fumed, thankful he had no idea about what went on the night of the Fenworth gathering._

_“Ladies of quality do NOT kiss like that!  Especially not where someone can see you!” he raged._

_Belle slumped back in her chair, twisting the napkin in her lap as she lowered her gaze, her eyes stinging with unshed tears at her brother’s harsh words.  “I love him,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Things had been strained between them for some time now, but she’d never expected him to hurt her so easily with his words._

_“You love him,” he scoffed, throwing his hands up in vexation.  “You’ve know the man a little more than two weeks.  You haven’t had time to develop any feelings for him, Belle.  You need to forget this idiocy and concentrate on helping me gain enough funds to hire an investigator to discover who framed me so we can return to Portland.  I want my life back and this foolishness of yours is not going to get in my way.  We will return home and I will make a good match for you there.  I will NOT let you ruin your life on a bloody Englishman.”_

_“It should be my choice,” she seethed inwardly, though her tone projected an outward calm.  She felt especially vulnerable this morning and the one person she felt she could talk to was in no way making her feel better.  She felt as though her heart were breaking and couldn’t muster up enough of her inner strength to fight back._

_“And what of your little gift? Have you even thought of that?  He’ll be horrified and no matter how bad he may want you, he’ll never accept you_ _…_ _not when I means your little secret could ruin him.”_

_Belle set her teacup aside and balled every one of her brewing emotions in a tight ball, stowing them away to keep him from hurting her any more deeply than he already had.  “He wouldn’t do that,” she insisted, even though she’d entertained the same thoughts._

_“Then by all means, tell him.  You know I’m right.”_

_“I refuse to believe that.”_

_“You are my sister,” he said, gentling his voice.  “It is for me to protect you.  I know what’s best for you even if you do not.”  With that, he’d left the dining room and Belle to her tears._

       Belle pushed her melancholy away as Regina's litany of grievances continued for the last hour of their journey, mostly towards people she considered her friends.  Poor Emma looked as though she might sprain the muscles in her eyes from rolling them so often.  Belle could have happily strangled her aunt by the time Sheffield came into view.  It took her breath away.  That wasn't a manor, as she had assumed.  No, it was a bloody castle.  A castle set amongst the rolling English hills with manicured gardens as far as the eye could see.

       “I wonder how much the duke is really worth,” Emma wondered aloud as they turned onto the long winding drive.

       “Emma!  We do not ask such things,” Regina screeched.

       “I wasn't asking, I was wondering, Mother.  I guess you've never been curious?”

       “Yes, well, I'm sure it's a lot,” Regina said in a hushed tone.  “Remember your manners, girls.  We do not want either of you to forget who you are and whom you represent.  Best behavior.”

       “Yes, Aunt Regina.”

       “Yes, Mother.”

       But Belle couldn't have cared less about her relatives, because the steps of their carriage were being lowered and she was finally able to be rid of them.  She squinted against the late afternoon sun, taking in the magnificence of Robert's ancestral home.

       “It's amazing,” Emma said breathlessly, coming to stand beside Belle.  “Whomever he chooses to be his duchess is going to be the luckiest girl in all of England.  Think about it Belle.  It’s far from London and the endless tediousness of the ton.  No parties, no dress fittings, no forced politeness for people you would rather not have to converse with.  Peace and quiet to share with the man you chose.”  She sighed and it gave Belle another glimpse into the inner working of her cousin’s sharp mind.  Perhaps they had more in common than she’d originally thought.

       Belle swallowed nervously. _Oh, Emma, if you only knew._   The dowager duchess was waiting to greet them and she didn't look very happy to see Belle.  Actually, she wasn't looking happy to see anyone. 

       All was forgotten then, however, because she felt him.  She grew light headed from the emotion pouring off of him as he strode purposefully to her side, never slowing until he'd reached her, taking her hand in both of his. 

       “Miss Whitmore, you don't know how delighted I am that you accepted my invitation.” His voice was a warm caress, washing over her.  Her breath caught in her throat as his lips brushed her hand in greeting, knowing that they would touch more than her hand before the conclusion of this weekend.

       Remembering herself, she dropped into a quick curtsy.  “I thank you for the invitation, Your Grace,” she said sweetly, watching the muscle leap in his jaw.  She was still refusing to call him Robbie in front of others and he was less than pleased.

       Robert's darker than dark eyes bored into hers, promising that she would pay for using his title.  And then completely ignoring Emma, he tucked Belle's hand into the crook of his arm and led her into his home.  Belle covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a giggle.

       “Where are we going?” she asked.  He was beginning to look a little panicked, not sure which direction he wanted to take.

       “Garden?” he asked.  “How would you like to see the garden, dearie?”

       “That sounds lovely.”  She could feel the heat, the passion and desire that he barely had reigned in and it settled over her, inflaming her own.  They had been apart for too long.  “Why are we going to the garden?”

       His eyes swung to her as he dragged her into the study and through the french doors, the fire there nearly burning her.  “So I may greet you properly.”

       “Or improperly?” she teased, hurrying to keep up with his long stride.

       “God yes!”  Robert didn't stop until they had reached a gazebo set off the path.  “Do you have any idea what I've been through since reading your letter?  Hell!”  he said, drawing her roughly into his arms, pressing her against his length.

       Belle thrust her hands into his hair and pulled his mouth to hers. _Oh bliss! God's, the man knows how to kiss!_   She tried to hold onto her control as a wave of raw desire washed over her with the onslaught of his lips, his tongue. She felt as though he were trying to devour her and she never wanted it to end.  Her suffering was over.  She was at last in his embrace, and he tasted better than chocolate.

       “God, I've missed you,” he whispered against her lips. His kisses had slowed to a gradual nibbling, unwilling to let her go but trying to cool his ardor.  “Never again, Belle.  Do you hear me?”

       “Robbie, I've missed you too.”  Belle pressed her lips to the pulse beating rapidly in his throat, her tongue darting out to taste him.  “Oh, you taste good.”

       Robert moaned and pressed her more tightly to him.  “You can't say things like that.”

       “Why?” she asked, her teeth scraping the tender flesh.  “It's the truth.”

       Robert set her away from him and raked a hand through his hair, a lone lock falling back over his brow.  His frustration was reaching new heights.  If he didn't get a hold of his lust, he was going to take her straight to his bed and not let her out of it for at least a week. 

       “Abby's really not happy with you, old boy,” Jefferson drawled from the garden path.

       Robert peeked around the lattice and grinned.  “No, I don't suppose she is.”

       Belle slid her hand into his and followed him onto the path to stand next to Jefferson.  “Why is your mother angry?” she asked, smiling in greeting at the earl.

       Jefferson chuckled.  “Well, to know Abby is to love her, but she's not well known for her patience.  And no one can prick her ire as quickly as our dear Robbie.”

       Robert's smile was full of the devil.  “See, luv, Mother thought she would throw this house party to find me a bride, unaware that I had already chosen one for myself.”

       “But--”

       “Not now, dear.  You can protest later,” Jefferson told her with a roguish wink.

       “She invited twenty eligible young ladies, hoping that one of them would pique my interest.  Instead of getting mad and raging at her, Jefferson and I compiled a list of twenty eligible bachelors to invite to take the lovelies off my hands.  That leaves the way clear for me to spend the weekend with whom I wish. . .you.”

       Belle closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand, praying for patience.  “Well, that should endear me to her without a doubt, that.”

       “Not to worry, dearie.  She'll come around.”  Robert wrapped his arm about her shoulders and steered her toward the door they'd come through earlier.  “In the meantime, we need to show you to your room so you can change for dinner. . . and such,” he said, his lips curving into a seductive smile.

       “Just tell me I'm not sharing a room with Emma or Regina.  I'd rather drown myself in the moat,” Belle groaned, shuddering at the thought of sharing a room, especially with her aunt for the entire length of the house party.

       “I don't have a moat,” he said with a chuckle.  He leaned close to her ear so Jefferson couldn't hear.  “You could always share my room, my bed, my body or whatever else you’d like.”

       The images his words brought to her mind made her glad he was there to support her.  _His bed indeed.  If he only knew just how much I actually wanted to, he'd take me there straightaway._

       “Robbie,” she moaned softly, her lips moving to the sensitive spot below his ear.

       Jefferson grabbed her hand and pulled her away from Robert, shaking his head in exasperation.  “You two can't keep your hands off of each other.  Scandalous!  Come along, dear girl, before the beast carries you off to his bedchamber.” 

       Belle cast a hot glance over her shoulder to where Robert remained on the garden path, his hands shoved into the pockets of his breeches. He was the only man she’d ever known who could make her forget herself so completely.  His eyes were burning with desire, his mouth forming three words to carry her through the hour before dinner, _I love you._

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert was whistling again as he poured himself a scotch and seated himself in front of the fire blazing in his study, happy and contented.  His lovely Belle was finally safely ensconced in his home and he was determined that this was where she would remain.  If he had to endure a house party to have her there, so be it.  At least, his suffering would be minimal.  He emitted a deep sigh and smiled with satisfaction.

       “There you are, Robert Edward!  Hiding!”

       _Bloody hell!_ He cursed inwardly, his glass crashing to the floor as he bolted upright.  “God's, Mother.  Don't you know how to bloody knock?” he roared.

       “I can't believe you, Robert.  Who invited all these gentlemen for the weekend?  You know the reason for this party was to find you a bride and now I have just as many gentlemen as I do ladies,” Abigail fumed.  “What am I to do with them all?”

       Robert poured himself another scotch and lit a cigar, pulling deeply on the end and exhaling the thick blue smoke towards his mother.  “All has been arranged, Mother.  No need to get your back up.”

       “And what is that girl doing here?”

       Robert feigned innocence.  “And which girl would that be?”

       Abigail's eyes narrowed furiously on him.  “That Whitmore girl.  I thought I had made it clear that she wasn't even to be considered.”

       “And I thought I made it clear that I would not be marrying unless I could find a woman I could love,” he said in a low tone, all hint of teasing removed from his voice.

       Abigail raised a hand to her chest in alarm.  “Are you saying you love her? The Whitmore girl?”

       “That's exactly what I'm saying, Mother.  I just have to get her to say yes.  Which is proving more difficult than I had anticipated,” he admitted ruefully, raking his hand through his hair in frustration.

       “She actually refused you?” she asked, staring at him incredulously.  Who in their right mind would refuse a marriage proposal from one of the most prominent lords of the realm?

       “Yes.  Some such nonsense about not being a suitable wife for me.”

       “Smart girl.  She's not suitable.  Her mother was a gypsy and ruined poor Maurice; a scandal that drove him out of England forever.  At least she's sensible enough to see that it would never be possible for you to marry her,” Abigail sniffed haughtily, seeing Belle in a new light now that she knew the girl didn't want to marry him.

       Robert fixed his mother with an icy glare.  “It would do well for you not to try to interfere in my affairs, Mother.  I will have her,” he insisted hotly.   “I wouldn’t care if she were a beggar in the street, I would still want her.  You forget what you were when father found you.”

       “I might've been poor, but I was still the daughter of a nobleman.”

       “Doesn't matter, Mother.  Can't you see that?  I love her,” he stressed.  “Why can't you just be happy for me?”

       “Yes, well, just don't cause a scandal this weekend chasing her all about the estate.  I remember how your father was when he first brought me home.  But herein lies the difference.  We didn't have a house full of guests.  Remember who you are, Robbie, and act like the duke you are.

       “Mama?”

       Abigail stopped in her haste to return to their guests, her heart fluttering as he called her that, something he hadn’t done since he was a child.  “What is it, dear?” she asked, her tone gentle with the love she held for her only child.

       “Won’t you please give her a chance?  Forget about the rumors circulating about her and see her for who she is as I have?  She makes me so happy.  Wouldn’t you rather see me married to someone I can love rather than someone who only sees my title and holdings?  You married for love; why can’t I?” he asked, showing her just how vulnerable he really was where his Belle was concerned.

       “Of course I want you to be happy,” she said, moving to his side and cupping his cheek in her hand.  “I will try to get to know her if you are certain this is the only woman who will do.”  She never had been able to deny him…much.  “But if you’ve already chosen her, what shall we do about our guests.”

       He embraced her warmly.  “Thank you.  As for the guests, let them enjoy the entertainments you’ve planned for this weekend.  You’ve put too much effort into this party to send them packing.”

       “Well, one thing is for certain.  It’s not going to be boring.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Nora instructed the footman on where to place Belle's trunk and began the task of unpacking.  Belle flopped onto the bed and breathed a sigh of relief to be alone at last.  She didn't count her maid.  She was alone with her own tangle of emotions without anyone else encroaching upon them.  _Oh bliss!  Blessed peace and quiet._   If she wished, she could reach out and find Robert, but she needed the quiet.  She didn't need to feel his mind numbing desire again so soon. Belle looked about her room, all done in shades of beige and blue.  The immense bed she was lying on had a wonderfully soft down mattress, but she doubted she would get much sleep.  She was in his home.  He would have a bed somewhere within these walls, a bed he would try to coax her into before the weekend was out.

       Her maid threw open the curtains, the view taking Belle's breath away.  She could see the rose garden Robert had taken her to when she'd arrived, and the gazebo where he'd improperly greeted her, she thought with a pleased smile.  At least, he hadn't started in on her, the moment she’d arrived, about his marriage proposal.  Her eyes moved to the lake in the distance, the darkening sky making it difficult to see.  She would love to see what it would look like come winter, all frozen over and ready for skating.  Belle pushed the thought away sadly.  She wouldn't be here in the winter to see it, she'd be tucked away in her home in Portland.

       “Miss?”

       “Yes, Nora?” she asked with a forced smile.

       “You're very fortunate to have been given a room in this wing of the castle.  Bridgette told me their rooms in the east wing are full of commotion with so many guests.  It's chaos,” Nora explained, hanging Belle's gowns in the wardrobe.

       A tingle of fear began creeping up Belle's spine.  “Why are there no guests in this wing?” she asked warily.

       “The duke must like his privacy.  Only his apartments and Lord Madden's are in this wing and the dowager's are one floor above.  The east wing is entirely full, Miss.  I'm sure that's the only reason you were given rooms here,” Nora said with a smile.  She pulled the handle on a door that wouldn't budge.  “Must be stuck.  I'll see if I can get a footman to get it open for you.”

       Belle's eyes widened.  “No, Nora, that's alright.  You don't have to trouble yourself.  We'll just leave it for now,” she said hastily.

       Nora looked at her curiously, but nodded.  “Shall we dress you for dinner?”

       Belle nodded absently.  Panic was beginning to rise in her breast, robbing her of speech.  _Robert Gold, you are in so much trouble!!_   He'd deliberately placed her right within arm’s reach, and Belle would bet her pin money that the stuck door led directly into his bedchamber.  How was she supposed to get any sleep, knowing that he was lying behind that door, in his big bed, probably stark naked.

       “Nora, open the bloody window, it's much too warm in here,” she snapped.  Her maid looked taken aback at the vehemence in her voice.  “I'm sorry, Nora.  It's just the stress of the day.”

       Nora opened the window and returned to hanging Belle's gowns in the wardrobe.  She pulled open the left side and stepped back.  “Miss, there's a gown in here.  And a note.”  Nora laid the gown across the bed and whistled.

       “It's beautiful,” she breathed, her voice filled with awe.  It was almost as lovely as the ball gown Robert had sent her.  It was sapphire blue silk with cap sleeves, an empire waist and a plunging neckline.  Tiny sapphire beads had been sewn into the gossamer skirt which would sparkle in the candlelight.  She couldn't wait to try it on to see if it was as soft as it looked.  Before she let Nora help her change, however; she broke the seal on Robert's note.

 

_My darling Belle--_

_A gift for you, my love.  I look forward to seeing if the fabric matches your lovely eyes.  I love you._

_Robbie_

 

 

       “Then the gown is for you, then?”

       “Yes, Nora.  It was apparently made for me.”  Her voice was quiet, filled with sadness.  She felt guilty for letting him give her gifts, knowing she had nothing to give him in return aside from her love.  He wanted to give her the world and she couldn't stay with him.  Her heart was breaking, the curse of her birthright hanging over her like a black cloud.  Why did she have to be different?  Why couldn't she have happiness for once in her wretched life? Happiness with Robert?

       _He might love you enough to want you anyway.  He might love you enough to understand._

_X*X*X*X*X_

Belle tied a brightly colored sapphire ribbon around her neck and slid her feet into her matching slippers.  She'd pulled the hair back at her temples with a comb and let her long dark tresses cascade down her back.  There was no point in letting Nora arrange it in a complicated coiffure when Robert's big hands would just see it undone in his playfulness.  She could just imagine what he'd planned in his seduction this evening.  The only thing she could be sure of was that it was inevitable.  She trembled in anticipation and left her room.

       Robert was waiting for her at the bottom of the grand staircase, glowering at the guests milling about waiting to be called in to dinner.  She watched him, her eyes never leaving him as she descended the staircase.  He looked splendid in his evening formal wear, his usual black broken by a sapphire brocade waistcoat.  What was it with him wanting to match?  Was he placing his claim on her for the world to see without really arousing suspicion?

       _Not bloody likely._   And then his eyes rose to hers, darkening with desire.  She squelched her own and let his emotions wash over her.  A slow smile curved up one side of his mouth, that wonderful mouth that could bring such pleasure.

_Get a hold of yourself!  Silly, lovesick girl!_

       Robert took her hand and pressed his lips to her palm, his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.  A spark of electricity shot up her arm, eliciting a gasp. _Let the games begin!_   She stowed her gift tightly away and narrowed her eyes on him.

       “You are in so much trouble,” she whispered, a blush darkening the apples of her cheeks.

       Robert tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and leaned close to her ear.  “Why is that?” he asked, still grinning.  He knew exactly what he'd done.  It wasn't an accident that she was in the room adjoining his.  After all, it would be hers once she married him; she might as well get comfortable with it.

       “I can't believe you put me in the duchess' compartments.  What if someone finds out?  It's going to cause a bloody scandal,” she scolded.

       “What's going to cause a scandal?” a droll voice asked from behind them.

       “Never you mind, Jefferson,” Robert said with a sigh.

       Jefferson waggled his brows suggestively at Belle.  “I'm surprised it hasn't happened already, darling.  The way you two are eating each other with your eyes should have tongues wagging before dinner is over.”

       “Bugger off, Jeff,” Robert growled.  He pulled Belle along with him to the dining room, an evil glint in his eye.

       “What are we doing?” she asked, arching a brow in suspicion.

       “Changing place cards,” he answered, winking at her.

       “Why?”

       “Because it amuses me.”

       Robert made certain Belle would be seated to his right.  That should set his mother on her ear.  Then he changed Jefferson's place card with Lord Newberry's, making Emma Morrison Jefferson's dinner companion.  He knew he'd suffer for it later, but the entertainment would be worth it.  Robert pitied anyone who should have to suffer that shrew's company for any length of time.  If only she would stop trying so hard to please her mother and be herself, he had a feeling she’d come into her own and surprise everyone.  There was hidden strength in the little debutante that you might catch a glimpse of if one would look deep enough.

       Understanding dawned on Belle and she gasped.  “Shame on you, Robbie.  He's your best friend.”

       “I know, dearie, but he'll appreciate the gag after all is said and done.”

       “I somehow doubt that,” she murmured, reaching up to brush that errant lock of hair away from his eye.  He'd tied it back, but still that one lock refused to be restrained.  “You'd better hope he even has a sense of humor after sitting with Emma for the evening.”

       Robert caught her hand and pressed it to his heart, his dark eyes full of heat and promise.  Rivers, the butler, chose that moment to save them by announcing that dinner was served.  He seated Belle and took the chair at the head of the table, relaxing back into the cushioned seat to enjoy what he suspected would be quite a show from his guests.

       Dinner was quite a spectacle, just as Robert had predicted.  Jefferson seated himself, glanced at his dinner companion and shot Robert a you'll-pay-dearly-for-this glare.  Robert in turn raised a brow and sent him a toothy smile.  The dowager, her usual sour expression in place, was glaring at both of them _and_ Belle.  She knew Robert had switched the place cards and she was fuming.

       Two dozen ladies were sending Robert come-hither looks down the table, all of which Robert ignored, knowing full well that when they looked at him they saw nothing but his title.  The same ladies were shooting daggers in Belle's direction, which Belle ignored.  And on and on it went.  Emma seemed oblivious to everything passing between the guests and prattled senselessly to Jefferson about fashion and the latest gossip.  Jefferson rubbed his hand over his eyes and groaned.

       _Would it never end??  And where was August?_   A tingle of fear crept up Belle's spine.  _He wouldn't!  Not here of all places.  No!_  

       All thought of her brother disappeared as Robert's booted foot trailed up the back of her calf.  _Holy hell!_   She bit back a yelp of alarm, her gaze meeting his.  She thanked every deity she knew that her gift was locked up tight.  And he was doing it on purpose, the rogue.  Belle could do nothing to retaliate in kind there at the dinner table with his mother watching Belle's every move. Or could she?  It would be revealing herself to him, her gift, her heart, everything she was. 

       Robert was just too smug in his satisfaction for her not to even try.  A devilish smile formed on her lips as she trained every bit of her desire towards him.  Focusing on that spot beneath his ear, she imagined running her tongue over it and then nipping his ear.  Her concentration made her hands tremble as she sent the thought at him with all her strength.  And he felt it.  She sat back with a smug smile of her own when his knee banged the table.

       _Uh-oh!_   He rubbed the spot on his neck and frowned at her in confusion. Belle smiled at Lord Monroe to her right, refusing to look at Robert, and then turning her attention to the pheasant on her plate before peeking at Robert from beneath her lashes.  He was staring at her again, the confusion gone.  That hot stare was drawing another frown from his mother.  Jefferson looked as though he were about to burst out laughing.

       And then Robert did the unthinkable with so many guests watching his every move.  He caught Belle's gaze and mouthed, “I love you.”

       Belle lowered her head into one hand and groaned.  And they still had the dessert course to get through before this fiasco would be done with.  Jefferson was staring at Robert open-mouthed in shock, Abigail was sawing through her pheasant with such gusto Belle was sure the China was never going to be the same, and Emma sat there pretending to be oblivious to everything.  You could cut the tension with a knife.

       Belle breathed a sigh of relief when the footmen began clearing away the last course.  Finally!  Dessert and then on to the drawing room for tea.  She would be fine as long as the dessert wasn't chocolate of any kind.  She would be able to maintain her composure and make it out of the dining room without chaos ensuing.  Her gaze met Robert's and the composure she was trying for slipped a notch.  Those devil dark eyes and roguish grin could only mean one thing and she knew she wasn't going to be pleased.

       Belle closed her eyes as the footmen set the dessert on the table before her.  She didn't want to look.  She knew, could smell the Chantilly cream wafting upwards.  She could smell the chocolate, so tantalizing an aroma she would know it anywhere. 

       Éclairs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wow! Went a bit over on the wc right there. Hope you can forgive me. August is such a prick. I just love to hate him. I’m sure you all are hating him too and it’s only going to get worse as the story progresses. Things are about to get really interesting…or so my beta tells me. I believe she said something about needing a cold shower and an ice bath, so stay tuned, my lovelies. Thank you all for the lovely comments!!
> 
> If you will, check out Ethereal Wishes new fic called ‘Safe Passage’. The first chapter is up on ffnet. It’s going to be really good judging from the first chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

*SEVEN*

 

 

       Robert was watching her, those devil eyes intent upon her lovely face, waiting to see if she would take a bite of the forbidden pastry. “Belle, aren't you going to try your dessert?” he asked, his voice warm with emotion.

       Belle's control slipped again and she stifled a soft moan as the seductive purr washed over her.  Her eyes opened and looked down at the pastry on her plate, a shiver of pleasure coursing through her.  Robert was tapping one perfectly manicured finger against the table next to her hand.  Her eyes found his and she caught her lower lip between her pearly teeth to hold in a gasp.  His dark gaze moved over her like a physical caress and she had to remind herself that they weren’t alone.  He'd been waiting for her to look at him, waiting for her reaction.  Belle's gaze followed his every move, her eyes blown wide with desire.  Slowly, deliberately, he raised the éclair to his lips and took a bite.  Fire smoldered in the depths of her cerulean eyes and he knew she would look the same lying beneath him in his bed.

       “Um-- I can't, Your Grace,” she murmured, her voice coming out in a tiny squeak.  Belle cleared her throat and explained,  “I'm sorry to have to pass on what looks like a delicious dessert, but I have an allergy to chocolate.”  _Crisis averted.  Take that, Robbie Gold._  

       Robert held her gaze as he chewed, not quite so smug now.  “Not even a little bite?” he asked. 

       _Uh-oh.  He's grinning again._   Belle shook her head, unable to answer.  He'd raised that one lone finger to the éclair.  _Oh my God, he wouldn't!_ He stuck his finger into the éclair and dipped out a dollop of Chantilly cream, raising it to his lips and sucking it inside.She groaned _…_ _He did!_

Belle gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white and bloodless, her lips parting involuntarily as she watched him.  Abigail screeched, “Robert Edward!”  Robert grinned wickedly and waggled his brows at Belle.

       “I think we should all adjourn to the drawing room now, ladies and gentlemen, for tea,” Abigail announced through clenched teeth.  Belle noticed the strong set of the dowager's mouth and prayed the poor woman didn't throttle her son right there at the table.

       Robert rose from his seat to pull out Belle's chair.  Jefferson, sensing freedom from the ever prattling Emma, beat Robert to Belle and offered his arm to escort her from the dining room.  Belle ignored the glower Robert shot at Jefferson and took the earl’s arm, and not by word or deed did she let her feelings show.  She was furious with Robert for putting her through that.  She'd wanted to climb over the table and onto his lap and suck the Chantilly cream right off his tongue.  She was burning with her desire for him and the bastard knew it, having put on that entire show just for her.  He'd known about her weakness for that particular pastry and he'd turned it against her.

       Belle sat next to Jefferson on one of the many sofas in the drawing room and accepted the steaming cup of tea he handed her.  Hopefully, the tea would help soothe her.  She sought out the object of her ire, but he wasn't there.

       “Where's Robbie?”

       Jefferson snorted.  “Not to worry, Belle darling.  I'm certain Abby wanted to have a word with him before joining us.”

      

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert was indeed still in the dining room having his ear chewed off by his very irate mother.  “--making a spectacle of yourself in front of our guests.  What is wrong with you, boy?  I raised you better than that.  How much did you have to drink before dinner?”

       “I'm not drunk, Mother,” he said, examining his perfectly manicured fingernails in a bored fashion.

       “How could you behave like that?” she asked, color rising in her face.

       Robert crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her, one cynical brow raised at her.  “Will this be coming to an end soon?  We have guests, in case you've forgotten…guests you insisted upon inviting to _my_ home,” he said, resentment clouding his tone.

       Abigail snorted.  “You're only interested in one guest and if you’re not careful, you’re going to ruin the girl and she’ll not want _anything_ to do with you,” she admitted ruefully.  She could see it was pointless to try to get through to him, and some of the steaming anger coursing through her seemed to abate.  “Go.  And behave yourself,” she admonished.

       Robert entered the drawing room, his eyes immediately finding Belle on the sofa with Jefferson.  He definitely needed something stronger than tea.  Pouring himself a tumbler of scotch, he surveyed the room with disgust.  How was he supposed to spend any time alone with Belle with a house full of guests?  This was turning into a nightmare, one of his own making.  And what the hell had that been at dinner?   How had she made him feel her lips on his neck? He'd felt it just as surely as if she'd risen from her seat and come to him, pressing her hot mouth to his flesh.  He couldn't have imagined it.

       Belle _was_ part gypsy.  Her mother, Irina, had been full blooded.  He'd heard of the gypsy people having power over others, but he discarded the notion with a shake of his head, that lock of hair falling over his eye.  His gaze fell on his beloved and he groaned in discomfort.  Dinner had been a living hell and he hoped she was suffering the same frustration as he.  He'd had those éclairs made especially for her enjoyment and she hadn't even taken one bite.  He could understand why from her previous enjoyment of chocolate, and he felt a moment of shame for having played such a dirty trick on her.  He would have to smuggle one to her room later. Perhaps she would be forgiving of his behavior if he offered her one to enjoy in relative privacy.  And if she thought that she would be keeping him out, she was in for a surprise.  He'd waited seven long agonizing days for her to come to him.  He wasn't waiting any longer.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       “So, Belle, why won't you marry Robbie?” Jefferson asked in a conspiratorial whisper, causing her to nearly choke on her tea.  He rapped her gently on the back and took the cup and saucer from her, setting it on the low table next to the sofa.

       Belle turned wide eyes on him.  “How do you--?”

       “Come on, darling.  Anyone with any sense can see the two of you are desperate for one another.  I know he's proposed to you more than once and yet still you refuse.  I just want to know why,” he drawled, a knowing grin on his full lips.

       “I don't think I feel comfortable talking about this with you, Lord Madden,” she said, her hands twisting in her lap.  Of course, it would stand to reason that Robert would confide in his closest friend.  She was beginning to wonder how much Robert had in fact told Jefferson.

       “Why not?” he asked, shrugging.  “I'm _your_ friend, too.”

       Belle glanced at Robert standing against the door jamb and then up into Jefferson's gentle grey eyes, unsure if she could really trust him, although he seemed to be sincere.  She hadn't made many friends since coming to this wretched country, and Jefferson was so like Robert, so full of warmth, unlike much of the gentry she'd been exposed to.

       “It's complicated,” she replied, dropping her gaze to her hands folded in her lap.

       Dawning understanding lifted the corners of his mouth in a wry smile.  “You don't want Robbie to know.  Rest assured, my dear, your secrets are safe with me.”

       Belle smiled coyly.  “Yes, but they're even safer with me.”

       “Minx,” he teased.  “Let's get a breath of air.  It's rather stuffy in here.”  Jefferson pulled her to her feet and swept her through the french doors out onto the veranda, knowing full well Robert wouldn't be far behind, and they would be in full view of at least three other couples enjoying the night air.

       Jealousy stabbed at the edge of Belle's barrier, bright green and angry.  “He's not happy with you,” she said softly.

       “And how is it you know this without even turning to look at him?” Jefferson asked, leading her over to the balustrade to perch a hip on its edge.  “You're quite an enigma, aren't you?”

       “You have no idea,” she said sadly. She tentatively reached out with her gift and probed the earl’s emotions, smiling gently at him when she encountered the concern he held for both her and the duke. “Just know that I would never hurt him.  I can't let him marry me because I care for him too much to see him ruined.  I can't do that to him.”  Belle squeezed his hand reassuringly and turned on her heel to go to her room.

       Robert joined Jefferson on the veranda and handed him a glass of scotch.  “Where's she running off to, do you think?”

       Jefferson watched her go, his brow knitted in a frown to match the one Robert was wearing.  “I think there's more to your Miss Whitmore than we'd both originally thought, but you can cease with the jealousy, Robbie. There's really no need.”

       “I'm not jealous,” Robert insisted, staring down into the amber liquid in his glass.

       “Sure you're not, forget I mentioned it.”  Jefferson drained his glass and smirked at the scene Lord Nolan and Miss Blanchard were making behind a potted plant.  “Well, old boy, at least your plan is working.”

       “Yeah.”

       “You don't sound pleased.  The path is clear to your lovely Belle.”

       “Belle, as you can see, has removed herself for the evening,” he snarked in irritation.  “I'm bored.”

       “We could always visit the pub down the road.  It's always good for a laugh. Might even bring the lovely Shelby one of those delightful éclairs,” he said, pushing himself up from his perch.

       “You go ahead,” Robert offered, having no desire to go carousing with the earl when he’d much rather be here with his future bride.

       Jefferson tsked.  “Just no fun here lately.”  And off he went to see if he could talk anyone else into joining him in town.  He knew Robert had much more entertaining activities in store for the remainder of the evening.  He made his way to the kitchen to wrap up a few éclairs to take to the pub with him.  Perhaps he could persuade the voluptuous little barmaid to be his own form of entertainment.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle, with Nora's help, tugged the evening gown over her head and slipped into a soft blue nightgown.  It was warm enough with a fire blazing in the hearth.  She turned to the bed, which her maid had turned down for her and frowned, knowing she'd be getting little or no sleep in it tonight.  She dismissed Nora, bidding her good evening and extinguished the candles save for one on the nightstand beside the bed.

       Her emotions were a mad tangle of anger, irritation. . . and desire.  _Infuriating man!_   Robert had made a complete cake of himself at dinner.  Why not just announce to the entire dining room that he was planning to crawl into her bed?  And that was the real reason she herself was reluctant to crawl into that big bed, because she was picturing him in it. . . with her.

       _Gah!  I'm being seduced and he's not even in the room with me.  Is that even possible?  Just knowing that he's somewhere in the castle with those devil dark eyes and sexy mouth just biding his time. Uhhhh!_

       Belle crawled into bed and pulled the covers over her head, heaving a frustrated sigh.  Had she locked the door?  She threw the covers aside and got up to check the door.  _Yep, locked_.  She checked the door to his room.  _Yep, locked_.  She pulled the curtains shut, blew out the candle and crawled back into bed.  She settled under the covers once again, closed her eyes and willed herself to go to sleep.  _Yeah, like that's going to happen._

       Belle turned on her side and stared into the flames, letting the crackle of the fire lull her into relaxation.  She was just starting to drift off when she heard it.  A key in the lock, followed by a soft knock.

       Her heart leapt into her throat as she eased out of the bed once again, her bare feet sinking into the thick carpet.  She pulled on her robe, creeping to the door and yanking hard, falling back when it didn't budge.  Still locked.  That could only mean. . .his door.  Another soft knock.  She knew he'd unlocked it, she'd heard the key.  Apparently, Robert was leaving the choice up to her.  All she had to do was open the door.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle slowly pulled open the door the breath hitching in her chest as she took in the disheveled state of her love.  Robert was standing there in nothing but his black knee breeches and fine lawn shirt, opened at the neck and untucked.  _Holy hell, he's a fine looking man._   His hair was falling into his eyes again and she was so tempted to reach up and brush it back.  His eyes appraised her as well and she pulled her robe more securely around her and stepped back.  She should've chosen something more appropriate for sleep.  Like a high necked flannel nightdress, something long that would conceal her from his heated gaze.  He stared at her so intently and for so long, she began to feel self-conscious.

       Finally his eyes lifted to hers.  “Are you very angry with me?” he asked, no teasing grin, no crooked smile, no laughter.  He was absolutely serious, afraid he had offended her.

       Belle's shoulders drooped in defeat, a wry smile playing at her lips.  “No, Robbie, not too angry.  But that was a mean trick you played on me.”

       Robert beamed down at her, his crooked grin back in place.  “I've brought you something to apologize.”

       “Really?  But you don't need to apologize,” she assured him.

       Robert dangled a key out to her on a blue ribbon.  “To this door,” he explained.  “This way I can't come in unless you invite me.  I don't want you to stay awake all night thinking that I'm going to crawl into your bed and ravish you,” he waggled his eyebrows at her playfully and she giggled.  “But you'll have to give me something in return.”

       Belle narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her breasts.  “And what would that be?”

       “A kiss,” he said, his voice a soft caress.  “One kiss for the key and your peace of mind.”

       “Happily,” she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, fitting her body to his.  Her kiss was soft and warm and filled with all the love she felt for him.  She molded her lips to his and tasted him, all the while holding her passion at bay.  It was a moment before she realized he wasn't holding her, that he was letting her kiss him, his nails digging into the wood of the door frame as she plundered his mouth.

       Robert heaved a deep breath and handed her the key, still standing in the doorway between their rooms, still waiting for her to invite him in.  “I have a peace offering, too.”  He pulled his hand from behind his back, holding a plate containing a single éclair just out of her reach.

       Belle's eyes widened, the pupils dilating with pleasure as the delectable smell reached her nose.  She inhaled deeply, a loud moan issuing from her lips.  Robert's restraint slipped and he stopped himself from reaching for her.

       “Are you willing to bargain for this as well?”

       Belle's eyes were on the pastry, imagining sharing it with him and the kisses to follow.  Her teeth worried her lower lip in indecision.  “Another kiss?” she asked breathlessly in her excitement.

       “Yes, another kiss. . .but I get to give it, you get to receive it.  I promise I won't touch you with anything but my lips. . . unless you ask me to.”  Robert was staring at her mouth, knowing by the time he was done with her she'd beg him to touch her.  Already he could feel the heat coming off of her, her breath coming in little pants.  “Do you agree to my terms, sweetling?”

       Belle stepped back, took hold of his hand and pulled him gently into her room, shutting and locking the door behind her.  She was alone with him, behind locked doors, no intrusions, no interruptions.  She squelched the panic that rose in her chest, a fiery blush staining her cheeks at the impropriety of it all and let him lead her to the sofa set before the fire.  He was still holding the éclair out of her reach.

       “I—I agree, Robbie,” she stammered, perching next to him on the edge of the sofa.

       “You're certain?” he asked, searching her face.

       “Yes.”

       Robert broke the éclair in half and scooped out a dollop of cream, offering it to her.  Her lips trembled, her eyes meeting his, hot with desire.  She wrapped her hand around his wrist and pulled it to her, sucking his finger into her mouth, her hot tongue curling around the digit.  Her eyes closed as she reached out to him with her gift, drawing his own desire into her.  Robert laid his head back against the sofa and moaned, her hot little tongue licking and sucking every last bit of the Chantilly cream from his finger.  Belle released him and ran her own finger through the chocolate covering the éclair and raised it to her lips.

       Just as she had done, he grabbed her wrist and slipped her finger between his parted lips.  Belle gasped, her control disintegrating as white hot flames licked at her belly, watching him as he drew her finger all the way in and then slowly released it.  She sat back, her eyes never leaving his.  He heaved a weary sigh and handed her the éclair.

       “Eat your pastry, Belle,” he said, his voice rough with need.  He needed time for his lust to cool, though it didn't wane much as he watched her eat it. Good Heavens, that woman was a slave to her passions, and he was just thankful that he happened to be one of them.  Then she licked her fingers, banishing all traces of chocolate and cream.  His erection was growing painful and she had to lick her fingers.

       Robert bolted to his feet and strode to the connecting door, unlocking it and striding into his room and straight to the decanter of scotch on the dresser.  He poured himself a glass of the amber liquid and tossed it back.  He took a deep breath before pouring another and carrying it back with him to her room.  Belle looked surprised when he plopped down onto the sofa next to her.

       “I thought you'd left,” she said in a hurt little voice. “Robbie?”

       Robert was staring into the fire, fighting for control for what he knew was coming.  He didn't want to frighten her with his raging need for her, and he snorted inwardly, thinking he'd had more control with his first woman than he had with her.  He raked a hand through his hair and tossed back his drink, setting the glass on the table next to the sofa.

       “It's alright, sweetling; come here,” he said, reaching for her.

       Belle moved to his side and slid her arms around his neck, then stifled a shriek as he lifted her to straddle his lap.  “Robbie! What--?”

       “You promised, Belle,” he reminded her, untying her robe and sliding it off of her shoulders to pool on the floor.  “And for the love of Christ please stop squirming, luv.”

       Belle looked up into his face.  Robert's eyes were closed in concentration, his teeth gnashed together so hard the muscle in his jaw twitched.  “Robbie, are you all right?” she asked with genuine concern, as little lines of pain formed at the corners of his mouth. 

       “I am so far from all right.  In fact, I don't think I'll ever be _alright_ again,” he mumbled.  “Now, I want you to slide all the way forward.”

       “What?” she asked in alarm.

       “Trust me,” he fairly purred, his thumbs tracing delicate circles on the bare skin of her knees.

       “Robbie--”

       “Trust me,” he breathed raspily.  “One kiss.  One long, hot kiss.  I give, you receive.  I won't touch you unless you ask.  Trust me.”  His words were broken, attesting to the control he was trying to hold onto.  He placed his hands on the sofa on either side of her legs, his nails curling into the upholstery, and waited.

       Slowly, she shifted her weight and moved forward, setting herself directly on his erection straining against his breeches.  She could feel him throbbing against the very core of her and it was too much, finding herself vulnerable as the control she maintained on her gift slipped away completely.  Everything she was feeling flowed out of her and wrapped itself around them as she pressed herself to his chest, her lips searching for that spot below his ear, running her tongue over it.

       Robert tensed.  “Belle, look at me.”

       Belle raised her eyes to his and felt herself drowning, in his desire, his love, all there for her to see in his eyes.  His lips molded to hers, teasing, tasting, a gentle caress.  He began slowly, tender sipping kisses, his lips merely toying with hers until he felt her relax against his chest.  He ran his tongue along the seam of her petal soft lips until they parted under his, giving him access to the honeyed recesses within.  He drank for her lips as though she were the finest wine, the heady combination of chocolate, Chantilly cream and her own delicious flavor mixing with his own.

She was drowning in desire, his lips unrelenting, and she wanted- no needed- to feel his arms around her, wanted to feel him press her closer.  “Robbie,” she gasped.

       Robert pulled his lips away from hers with a groan.  “Tell me what you want, my Belle,” he breathed, “Anything you want.”  His lips moved to the curve of her neck and he nipped her with his teeth, his tongue, leaving fire in their wake.

       “Robbie, please,” she begged, the heat unfurling in her belly causing a delicious pressure to settle between her thighs and she ground her hips down against his, needing something, anything to alleviate the ache that was steadily building.

       “Please, what?  You have to tell me.”  His hands were balled into fists, the muscles in his arms tight with control, refusing to give in to the urge to touch her.

       Belle cupped his face in her hands and whispered against his lips, “Put your hands on me.”

       Robert crushed her to him, one arm sliding around her waist, his other hand twining in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat. His nose nuzzled her ear as his lips trailed along the smooth alabaster skin of her neck.  He breathed in her rich floral scent and the musky aroma of her arousal as he nipped lightly at the flesh where her neck met her shoulder, his teeth worrying the delectable patch of skin there, drawing it into his mouth and suckling, marking her as his own.  There would be no doubt to anyone who saw, just who she belonged to.  His lips moved down her throat, trailing hot open mouthed kisses down to her breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth through the silk of her night gown as he gently rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger.  The intensity of it brought a scream to her throat and he reveled in the sound, the sound of his name falling from her lips in the height of her passion.  He ground himself up against her, pulling her hips forward, claiming her lips and drawing her tongue into his mouth.

       Belle was drowning in pleasure.  It was so much, too much and yet not enough and she couldn't tell where his pleasure ended and hers began.  She moved against him, straining to grab onto something, anything to find her way out of this need.  There had to be an end.  It couldn't go on.  Her entire body trembled, her thighs quivering in anticipation as his hands settled on her hips, guiding her as she fought to find a rhythm that would please them both.  His hand slipped beneath her gown and into the soft lacy drawers she wore, groaning as he felt her wetness coat his fingertips.  He buried his face between her breasts as he slipped one long finger into her heat, his thumb brushing against her clit, adding to her pleasure and to his own as she cried out his name over and over in a litany of softly uttered praises.

She felt as though the sun was trapped inside her and then exploded, taking her with it, white stars bursting behind her closed lids.  She collapsed against Robert's chest, gasping and shaking, her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, holding him close to her.  Robert continued to move against her, thrusting his hips against her, prolonging her climax as he found his own.  He shuddered, his arms tightening around her, his face pressed into the crook of her neck, nipping gently.

       Belle's breathing slowed, her eyes drooping with exhaustion, reluctant to move.  His hands stroked her hair away from her temple so he could peer down at her face to gauge her reaction, wondering frantically if he’d gone too far. 

       “That was some kiss, Robbie,” she teased breathlessly as she came down from her high, causing his arms to tighten around her.

       Robert dropped a kiss on her damp brow and smiled.  “Are you alright?  Did I hurt you?”

       “Of course you didn't hurt me.  If I have a bruise tomorrow it will be because I was well loved.  And I will remember this night forever.  Every time I taste chocolate or whiskey, I will remember the way it tasted on your lips,” she whispered, nipping his ear with her teeth.

       “God, woman, you're going to end up in my bed, flat on your back for a week if you keep talking like that,” he growled against her mouth, sucking her lower lip between his own.  Keeping a firm hold of her, he flipped over onto his back on the sofa and pulled her to his side, leaving her half sprawled atop his chest.  He reached onto the back of the sofa and pulled the blanket down to cover them.

       Belle's eyes widened with alarm.  “You're staying with me?”

       Robert frowned, his eyes closing with weariness.  “For a while.  Now that I finally have you, I'm reluctant to let you go,” he admitted. 

       She pressed her face to his chest, inhaling deeply.  She loved that he smelled of sandalwood and linen and Robert.  “I don't want you to go, either.”

       “Marry me and I never have to let you go,” he cooed against the shell of her ear.

       “No,” she whispered, sadness coloring her tone that she couldn’t give him the answer he so desperately craved.

       “Marry me,” he pressed, his hands roaming over her back in a soothing fashion.

       “No.”

       “Love me.”

       Belle smiled.  “I do.”

       “I love you more.  All the more reason to bind yourself to me.”

       Belle shook her head, her curls bouncing and forming a halo on his chest. “No you don't. You couldn’t possibly.”

       “Go to sleep,” he murmured, his voice slurred with drowsiness as he pressed her closer, his arms wrapped firmly around her.

       Belle's hand slid around his neck to curl her fingers in his long hair, hiding her smile as sleep finally claimed her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this chapter isn’t as long as some of the others, but this was the only place I could stop it. I promise next week’s will be longer. Thanks so much to all who are following this story and for the lovely comments you’ve left. It warms my heart that you’re enjoying it.


	8. Chapter 8

*EIGHT*

 

       Robert's hand lifted to swipe at the offending liquid rolling down his aquiline nose and pulled Belle's warm body further under the blanket.  Another droplet of water hit his closed lid. He blinked and pulled the blanket over his head, trying to hold on to the last vestiges of sleep.  Something tugged sharply on his hair at the crown of his head, the only part of him besides his feet that wasn't covered by the blanket.  He pushed the blanket away from his face and was hit with another droplet of water.  Irritated and still fighting off sleep, he cracked one dark eye open to glare up to see the cause of his irritation.

       “G'morning, Robbie,” Jefferson said cheerfully, his mouth wide with a toothy grin.  “Seems to be better for some than others, however.”

       “Piss off, Jeff,” Robert whispered, pulling the blanket back up over his face, only to whip it back down when Jefferson's words registered.  “What do you mean, morning?”  He glanced at the clock on the mantel and swore.

        “Belle, luv, wake up!” he said, giving her a gentle shake.  “We've overslept!”

       Belle groaned sleepily and rubbed her face against his shoulder.  “We couldn't have slept more than an hour.  Gobacktosleep.”  He almost didn't understand that last as it was said into his neck.

       “All I know is that breakfast is over, the hunt has begun and your mother has already remarked on your absence.  So I suggest the two of you present yourselves posthaste,” Jefferson drawled, still grinning.

       Belle's eyes flew open and stared up at Jefferson, nearly falling off the sofa in her horror.  “God's pearly teeth!”  She scrambled off the sofa, dragging the blanket with her to hide her semi-nakedness.  “Robbie, what are you doing in here?  You said 'for a while', not all bloody night!”  Her voice was laced with panic.

       Robert rose from the sofa and put his hands on her shoulders.  “It was an innocent mistake.  I wasn't planning on falling asleep.  I swear.”

       “Robbie, now.  Her maid was headed this way when I passed her on the way to the stairs.  You _do not_ want to be caught in here,” Jefferson said in a low voice, just in case the woman was listening at the keyhole.

       Robert’s sable eyes darkened considerably and his lips curled in a wolfish grin.  “I don’t know if I wouldn’t.  Then you would have no choice but to marry me,” he murmured silkily, sliding his hands down her bare arms.  He was sorry a moment later when she stiffened and cast wide hurt-filled eyes up at him.

       “You claim to love me, yet you would take my choice from me?” she asked in a small voice.

       He pulled her back into the circle of his embrace, instantly contrite.  “No, Belle, of course not.  I was just indulging in a fantasy.  You just don’t understand how much I need you in my life.  I don’t want you to have a reason to leave me,” he said, leaving himself vulnerable before her.

       “Could you please indulge yourself later?!” Jefferson hissed, his ear to the door, listening for the maid’s quiet tread.

       Belle reached up and brushed her lips to his, and tugged gently on the ends of his hair.  “Go, Robbie, we’ll talk later…please!” she whispered urgently.

       Robert acquiesced, dropping a quick kiss to her lips before bolting for the connecting door he’d forgotten to lock last night.  “Lock the door, luv,” he called softly over his shoulder as he and Jefferson strode quickly through the door, shutting it behind them.  Just in time, as a knock sounded on her door that led into the hall.  She quickly retrieved the key to Robert's room and locked the door before letting Nora in to help her bathe and dress.

       Nora directed the footmen following her to fill the tub hidden behind the ornate gold screen with steaming buckets of water and went about her business straightening the room and making the bed.  The girl’s eyes had widened as she took in the love bite on her lady’s neck.

       “Milady, you might wish to wear a scarf or shawl or might I even suggest a high-necked gown?” she asked, casting her eyes towards the floor.

       Belle’s brow furrowed in a puzzled frown.  “Whyever would I need to do that, Nora?”

       The maid blushed and nodded towards her mistress’s neck.  Belle’s fingertips brushed along the flesh in the crook of her neck and winced. _Damnit, Robbie!_   “Yes, well, you may be right on that account.  Can I trust you will be discreet?” she asked the maid who’d been with her since her arrival in her aunt’s household.

       “Of course, milady,” she answered with a fond smile, happy when she saw the tension ease from Belle’s shoulders.

Belle chewed her thumb nail to shreds, wondering how she hadn't been caught with Robert.  She would've been compromised and then she wouldn't have had a choice.  Robert would have had the carriage readied to hie off to Gretna Green to elope.  She groaned inwardly. 

Belle ducked behind the screen and pulled her night gown over her head, sinking into the steaming water.  Nora had poured a liberal amount of lavender bath salts into the tub and the fragrance helped to soothe her.

       Belle was finally starting to relax, the heat and steam from the water seeming to seep into her very bones.  Nora helped her wash her hair and wrapped it in a towel, allowing her to push all thoughts of Robert out of her head, at least for a few moments as she sank deeper into the tub. Nora added another bucket of water the footmen had left and a fresh wave of heat assailed her tired muscles, bring her a modicum of peace as she relaxed further.  However, her peace was not to last.

       Regina breezed into the room in a flurry of motion.  “Belle, you lazy girl.  What are you doing lying abed all morning?”

       _Well, just, shit!_

       “Good morning to you too, Aunt,” Belle said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as her head began to ache.  She slid deeper into the water and closed her eyes against the pain.

       “You've missed all the excitement,” Regina said, her ruby lips curving into a smile.

       Belle didn't ask.  She knew Regina would get around to it in due time.

       “There's a highwayman in the area.  He held up Lord Newberry on his way back from town last night.  Can you believe it?” Regina asked, nearly giddy in her excitement.

       Belle sat up with a splash.  “Highwayman?” she queried cautiously.

       “Yes, dear.  Isn't that what I just said?  Robbed our poor Lord Newberry and left him near frightened to death, not knowing how he'd get back.  His coachman had run away, you understand,” Regina said, oblivious to Belle's distress.  “What's this, dear?”

       _Shit! Shit! Shit!_

Regina was holding the glass Robert had left on the table, taking a big sniff and wrinkling her nose.  “Since when do you drink scotch?” she asked accusingly.

       _Lie!!!!!_   “Um, well,” she began, thinking quickly.  “I brought it up with me last night.  I always have trouble sleeping in a new place.” 

       “Oh, no I didn't know.”

       _Whew!  I am so going to throttle Robbie.  Meddling relatives.  And just wait until I get my hands on Auggie!_   _The thieving buggar!_   Panic was beginning to overwhelm her as she let Nora help her from the tub.

       “Did they catch the thief?” she asked with an outward calm she was far from feeling. If Regina had actually taken the time to get to know her since Belle had arrived in England, she would be able to see through her façade.

       “No, dear, more’s the pity,” Regina said distractedly, tapping her blood red nails against the empty glass before setting it back on the table.  For the first time, Regina stopped to take in her surroundings.  “Belle, how did you get such a choice room?  The only occupants on this side of the castle are the duke and Lord Madden.  Rochefort thinks he lives here, you know.”

       _Please don’t let her over think this one!_

       “I was told the east wing was full,” Belle said, sitting at the dressing table to let Nora braid her hair.  Her maid laid a swath of Belle’s hair over her shoulder, hiding Robert’s mark from Regina’s scrutinizing gaze.

       “Oh, that makes sense then.”  Regina cast Belle a disdainful glare.  “Do hurry up, Belle.  You’ve already missed out on the hunt.  You don’t want to miss the picnic by the lake.” 

       Belle breathed a sigh of relief as Regina swept out of the room, closing the door behind her.  Nora chose a cream colored day dress with a pattern of red roses embroidered along the skirt for her to wear.  _Now to find Robert.  Maybe he’ll let me borrow a pistol to shoot my idiot brother!_

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle was met on the stairs by a footman.  He handed her a note, bowed and scurried off.  _Oh, please don't let it be from Robbie.  I really can't handle any of his smoldering missives this morning._

 

 

       _Miss Whitmore--_

_Please join me in the rose garden for tea._

_Abigail Gold_

_Damn, could this day get any worse?_   Tea with the dowager.  She squared her shoulders and tried to prepare herself for the confrontation she knew would ensue.  Abigail couldn't possibly know what had happened last night.  Even she wasn't all knowing.  Robert and Jefferson were waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, discussing the highwayman.  She was so distracted, she leaned up and kissed his cheek for all to see, handed him the note and walked out the french doors to her impending doom.

       Robert stared after her, his mouth gaping open in shock as he scanned the note and paled.  “Dear God in heaven!” he yelled, tossed the note at Jefferson and ran after her.  What was his mother up to now?

 He caught up to Belle on the garden path and pulled her to a stop. “I'll come with you, dearie.”

       Belle shook her head.  “No, Robbie, it's alright.  I'm just going to talk to your mother.  I’m certain she can't be as bad as all that,” she replied, trying to convince herself as much as him.

       Robert grimaced.  “Yes, she can.”

       Jefferson skidded to a halt next to them, having run from the hall, not wanting to miss a moment.  Robert reluctantly released Belle's hand and let her continue down the path without him. 

“You're letting her face the dragon alone?” Jefferson asked, panic rising in his voice.

       “Belle said she wanted to go alone.”

       “Bloody hell!”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Abigail Gold was holding court with a half dozen ladies on a patio at the very center of her rose garden.  Belle dropped into a curtsy.  “Good morning, Your Grace.”

       Abigail smiled warmly.  “Please, Belle dear, sit here next to me,” she said waving absently at the seat next to her on the stone bench.  She turned her attention back to the others.  “Ladies, if you please, I would like a private word with Miss Whitmore.”

       Dismissed, the ladies retreated back towards the castle to amuse themselves and choose which gentlemen they would be sharing their picnic with.  Belle accepted the cup of tea from the dowager and waited for her to get to the point of this meeting.

       Abigail looked Belle over with a critical eye.  “You're very beautiful; wonderful bone structure.”

       Belle's brow knitted into a puzzled frown.  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she demurred sipping her tea in irritation, still waiting.

       “You look like your father.  He was quite an attractive man.”

       Belle's patience was quickly nearing an end.  “Will we be getting to the point soon, Your Grace?” She winced, realizing too late that she should try to get on better with her beloved’s mother.  “I’m sorry, I mean no offense…I’m just very nervous.”

       Abigail quirked an imperious brow at her, staring her down for all of three seconds before she emitted a short burst of laughter.  “I like you, dear.  You're not afraid of anything, are you?”

       Belle's eyes widened with surprise.  “No, Your Grace, I can't say that I am,” she admitted truthfully.

       “Enough with that 'Your Grace' nonsense.  Call me Abby.”

       Belle's world was turning upside down.  Just last night at dinner, the dowager was shooting daggers at her at the dinner table and now she wanted Belle to call her 'Abby'?  “I couldn't.”

       “You most certainly will,” Abigail insisted, her tone brooking no objection.  “Now tell me why you have refused my Robbie.”

       Belle nearly choked on her tea.  “I beg your pardon?”

       “Robbie told me you've rejected his offer of marriage.  I'd like to know why you have refused him.  Rest assured, anything you say to me in confidence will be kept as such,” she said, patting Belle's hand.

       “I don't think I am a suitable match for him,” Belle said woodenly.  Perhaps if she said it aloud often enough, she would start to believe it.    

       “A suitable match for his title, or for him?”

       Belle sat back in surprise, unsure how to answer.  “I have never seen him as a title,” she hissed.  “To me, he is Robbie.  A sweet, gentle, loving man.”

       Abby sipped her tea.  “I thought so at first, that you weren't right for him.  I see clearly now that I was wrong, and that’s something I don’t admit to very often.  You think because you are of moderate birth that you aren't worthy of his title?”

       “There is that. But that's not why I refused him,” Belle said, staring down into her cup, searching for answers that weren’t there.

       “Do you love him?” Abigail asked, watching Belle closely.

       Belle didn't hesitate.  “With all my heart.”

       “Then why refuse him? If you don’t think of him as a title, but rather as the man you love, your position in society shouldn’t matter,” Abigail said softly, taking Belle's hand in her own.

       Tears, she hadn't realized she'd been holding back, slipped down Belle's face.  “I can't see him ruined.  I love him too much to ruin his life.”  Belle lowered her voice.  “If people found out how different I am, they would never understand how he could have married me.  They will shun him.  Everything he has made of himself will crumble to ash.”

       Abby chuckled softly, nibbling on a biscuit from the tray, her eyes sparkling with mirth.  “You seem to forget the power Robert wields.  He’s a duke of the realm, dear.  Very few would give him the cut direct.”

       “But—“

       “Have you told him?  Your secret?”

       “I can't.  All I can do is enjoy his company until my brother and I return home,” Belle said miserably, choking back a sob.

       “Robbie will never let that happen, Belle.  He's in love with you.  To be honest, I never thought I would live to see him fall in love with anyone, much less offer his name, wealth and title.  You make him happy, you see him as a man and his title be damned.  He will never let you go,” Abigail said gently, offering the petite girl a lace handkerchief.  Belle sobbed in earnest.  “Your secret can't be as bad as all that.  Tell Robbie and let him judge for himself.  I tell you this, however; it won't matter to him one wit.”

       “Would it matter to you?” Belle asked softly, her voice quavering with emotion.  She opened up her gift and read the woman, finding her to be sincere.  She knew the dowager might have had reservations about a match between Belle and Robert, but apparently her son’s happiness meant more.

       “Probably not, dear.  When you reach my age, very little comes as a shock to me.”

       In that moment, Belle loved Robert's mother.  She smiled tentatively and offered her hand to the dowager.  “Would you like me to show you?” she asked, nearly choking on the fear she could taste at the back of her throat. It was a risk she would be taking, but she felt she owed it to the woman if she were to give in to her feelings and accept Robert.  If his mother could look on Belle’s gift without crying for the constable to take her away to have her tried for witchcraft, there might be hope for her that Robert would be equally accepting.

       Abigail squeezed Belle's hand reassuringly.  “I would feel privileged.”

       Belle sat back on the bench and closed her eyes in concentration.  She pulled her gift forward and bundled her calm into a tiny ball, pushing it towards the dowager.  She opened her eyes, watching a peaceful smile curve Abigail's lips.

       “What did you do?” Abigail asked in awe.

       “I'm an empath.  My mother had the same gift and she passed it to me and August, although mine is more powerful than Auggie's.”  Belle held Abigail's gaze and projected her thoughts directly into her mind.  “ _I can even let you hear my thoughts.”_

       “Remarkable.  And this is what you're afraid will ruin Robbie?  How absurd,” she scoffed.

       “You don't think I'm a freak?” Belle asked uncertainly.

       “No, dear.  No one ever has to know of your 'gift' unless you wish to tell them.”

       “But--” Belle began, but Abigail cut her off.

       “And when you decide to tell Robbie…and I trust you do plan on telling him, dear…he won't care.  Trust in his love for you, Belle.  Don't let your fear keep you from the happiness you both deserve.  With each other.”

       Belle felt Robert's eyes the moment he peeked over the hedge and she smiled.  He was worried about her…worried that his mother was bullying her into leaving him alone.  She leaned close to Abigail to whisper in her ear.

       “Robbie's peeking over the hedge.  He's spying on us to make sure we're playing nice,” she said, a smile playing along her lips.

       “He can be such a child,” the dowager whispered back.  Abigail laughed softly and straightened before schooling her features into an unreadable mask.  “Robert Edward, you may come out now,” she called, her voice stern.

       Robert and Jefferson straightened to their full height and moved nonchalantly onto the patio, their hands shoved into their pockets.  They looked like two schoolboys called into the headmaster's office, and Belle had to hide her wide smile behind her hand.

       “Look at you two, spying.  Have you nothing better to do?”

       “But--”

       “Honestly--”

       “Run along, Belle dear.  I'll see you at the picnic.”  Abigail tapped her cheek and Belle dutifully dropped a kiss there.

       “Yes, ma'am,” Belle replied and grinned at Robert as she left the patio.  She had a lot to think about.  Maybe she _could_ have her cake and eat it too.  As long as that cake was Robbie Gold, it would be worth it.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle slowed her steps on the garden path, her thoughts drifting back to her talk with the dowager.  Could Robbie really be as understanding as his mother had been?  Could she take a chance and marry him?  She knew it was inevitable that she'd end up in his bed, especially after last night.  _He'll never let you go._   Abigail's words kept echoing through her mind.  How had this happened?  Long before she'd come to England she'd resolved that she'd never marry, that she'd never subject someone to the curse of her empathy…despite August’s wishes to make a match for her.  And then she'd met Robert and he'd shown her not to be afraid. He'd been honest and loving and gentle with her, laying his heart at her feet.  And yet she still hadn't opened up to him completely...aside from her desire.  When she kissed him, when she touched him, she gave of herself and held nothing back.  The thought of leaving him was a physical pain in her chest.

       Belle sighed wearily and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and praying for the answer to suddenly appear before her.  Her sign came in the form of Robert's strong arms sliding around her waist from behind, pulling her back tightly against his chest.  He simply held her, bowing his head to rest his cheek against her hair, his love enveloping her.  She could have wept from the beauty of it all.  And she knew she was going to tell him.  Tonight, after the ball.  She would tell him of her gift and that she would marry him if he still wanted her.  August wouldn’t be at all happy about it, but she would deal with him when the time came.

       “Alright, sweetling?” Robert asked, his voice a warm caress.

       “Mmhm,” she replied, wrapping her arms over his and leaning into his embrace. “I had a very nice chat with your mother.”

       Robert nearly choked on his tongue.  Somehow the words _mother_ and _nice_ just didn’t seem to belong in the same sentence.

       Jefferson cleared his throat.  “You two realize you shouldn't be standing about like this in plain sight, don't you?  That just anyone could walk upon you and--”

       “Bugger off, Jeff,” Robert growled. 

       Belle sighed, playing with the signet ring on Robert's right hand in an absent manner.  “As much as I hate to agree with Jefferson, he's right, Robbie.”

       “Well, I like that,” Jefferson scoffed indignantly.  “Try to be there for my friends, try to look out for them and this is the thanks I get.”

       Robert chuckled, knowing Jefferson's feeling weren't bruised.  He opened his mouth to tell him so and stiffened.  Emma had turned onto the path and frozen, her eyes wide and alarmed at finding Belle in Robert's embrace.  Belle turned her eyes up to him, having felt the change come over him, following his horrified stare to her cousin.

       _Holy hell!  Emma!_

       Jefferson turned, his eyes narrowed on the little blonde.  “Taken to eavesdropping, now, Lady Morrison?” he sneered.

       Emma turned on her heel to flee, but Jefferson was too quick for her.  He ran after, grabbing her arm and whipping her about.  “Let go of me, you brute!”

       “That's _Lord_ Brute to you, little girl,” he drawled, dragging her back to where Robert and Belle stood, still wrapped in their embrace.  Belle refused to let Robert release her.  She didn't care anymore.  They'd all find out tomorrow anyway.

       “Jefferson, please release her,” Belle said, turning in Robert's arms.  “Robbie, would you and Jefferson please give me a moment with my cousin?”

       Robert's gaze shifted between Emma and Belle, unsure if he should leave them alone.  Finally, he nodded and dropped his arms from the tight hold he had about her waist.  “Come on, Jeff.  Let's go see what time Mother's bloody picnic is going to begin.”  To Belle, he said, “I'll wait for you in my study.” 

       Emma turned to watch them leave before rounding on Belle.  “What are you doing out here with the duke?  Do you have to show the entire world what a trollop you are?”

       Belle reeled back as though Emma had slapped her.  “How dare you!  Who do you think you are, Emma Morrison, to cast judgment on me?  What have I ever done to make you hate me?” she asked, gaping incredulously at the venom in her cousin’s voice.

       Emma's shoulders drooped.  “I don't hate you,” she said in a defeated whisper.

       “Well, you have a funny way of showing it.”  Belle linked her arms with her cousin’s and led her to the gazebo a short distance away so they could talk in private.  She seated herself on the cushioned bench and beckoned Emma to join her.  “Come on, Emma.  I think it's time you and I cleared the air, so to speak.  You look like you could stand to talk to someone, even if it is just me.”

       “I hate my life,” Emma lamented.

       “What? Why?  You have a wonderful life.”

       “No, I don't.  My mother is a bloody nightmare.  You know what she's like; you live with her, too.”

       Belle bit her lip to keep from saying the wrong thing.

       “But it's so much worse for me because I'm her daughter.  'Stand up straight, Emma', 'You have to make a good match, Emma', 'No one is going to want a wife that is smarter than he is, Emma'.  And then you arrived from America and it just got worse.”

       “Why did it get worse?” Belle asked with a patient smile.  Emma was such a free spirit…a free spirt living under the shackles of her parent.  She was certain Regina loved Emma dearly, yet she had a horrible way of showing it.  The poor girl was slowly dying inside, unable to be the strong woman she truly was.  There was no wonder why she would be jealous.

       “Because you're beautiful and strong and don't give a damn about finding a husband.  You're happy just to be yourself and everyone loves you because of it.  And now you've got the most eligible bachelor in all of England chasing you.” Emma dropped her head in her hands, trying to keep the tears stinging her eyes from falling from her lashes.  She hated outbursts of emotion and tried never to let others see when she couldn’t refrain from them.  No one needed to see her weaknesses.

       Belle handed Emma a lace handkerchief and gathered her in her arms.  “Hush, now, cousin.  It's not as bad as all that,” she soothed, stroking Emma's hair.  “It will get better.”

       “I don't want to make a brilliant match; that's mother's dream.  I'm tired of the parties and the balls and the fittings for a new wardrobe.  I just want to go home to our estate in the country and lock myself away from mother's machinations.” Emma rested her head on Belle's shoulder and sighed. “I'm sorry I called you a trollop.”

       “It's alright.  Seeing me in Robert's arms must've come as a bit of a shock,” she said, smoothing her hand over Emma’s back, offering the girl a small measure of comfort.

       “Just a bit,” she said with a sheepish grin.  “I knew he was interested in you, but I didn't know you returned his affections.”

       “Yes, well--” Belle didn't know how much she should say.  She didn't want it getting back to her aunt.

       “What's it like? To be in love?  I've never been in love,” Emma said with a wistful smile.

       “It's wonderful and painful at the same time.  When you're in love you have to be with the person you love.  And when you are, it's magical.”

       “I've only read about it in my books...at least the ones I can sneak past my mother.”

       Belle pulled Emma to her feet and linked her arm with hers, leading her back towards the path.  “Don't worry, Emma.  Someday you'll find love when you least expect it.  In the meantime, you have a whole world to experience.  You have your friends and your family.  Don't let Regina ruin it for you.”

       “I don't have any friends,” she said in a small voice.

       Belle wrapped her arm about Emma's shoulders and hugged her.  “I'm your friend, Emma.”

       “Really, Belle?  After I've been so horrible to you?”

       “Of course.  Now, no more tears.  Run along and wash your face so we can go down to the picnic together.”

       Emma stopped in surprise.  “You want me to share your picnic?”

       “Yes, I do.  And I want you to be yourself, Emma, not what your mother is trying to make you.”

       Emma hugged Belle warmly, tears swimming in her eyes once again. “Thank you.”  She turned to go, but stopped and said in a conspiratorial whisper.  “I won't tell anyone what I saw…I promise.”

       Belle watched Emma make her way to the door, a worried frown knitting her brow.  Regina should be ashamed of herself for what she was doing to the poor girl.  Her shrewish behavior was a direct result of Regina making her into what she thought the perfect wife should be, stifling Emma's spirit.  If she remained in England, she would have to do something to help her cousin.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert and Jefferson were waiting for her in Robert's study, enjoying a glass of scotch.  A shiver trickled down Belle's spine, the memory of how he'd tasted last night replaying in her mind.  It also reminded her of him leaving his glass behind for Regina to find this morning.  Robert rose from his desk and pulled her into his embrace, resting his cheek atop her hair.

       “Well, what happened?” Jefferson asked, tossing back the rest of his drink in one fluid motion.

       “Emma and I had a very nice talk.  Actually, it was the first time we've really been able to talk.  We've come to an understanding and I don't think she'll tell anyone what she witnessed.”

       Jefferson breathed a sigh of relief.  “I know Robbie doesn't give a damn, but I'd hate to see the two of you forced to the altar.  At least, before you're ready, my dear.”

       Robert raised Belle's face to his and brushed his lips to hers.  “Soon.”

       “No,” she said automatically.

       “Yes,” he said, his eyes dark and intense.

       “Enough, you two.  When are we supposed to go down to the lake?  I'm starving,” Jefferson grouched.

       “You're always starving,” Robbie said absently, unable to look away from the precious girl in his arms.

       “We're waiting for Emma.  I told her she could share our picnic,” Belle said matter-of-factly.

       Jefferson groaned.  “Why are you trying to make my life miserable?  An entire hour to be wasted on the little harpy.  I think I just lost my bloody appetite.”

       Robert grinned over the top of Belle's head.  “I'm sure she can't be that bad, Jeff.  I've been in Lady Emma's company and she's was absolutely delightful.  Nothing like her mother.”

       “Not that bad?!” Jefferson railed.  “You didn't have to sit through five courses with her prattling away in your ear at dinner last night.”

       Emma stopped in the doorway of Robert's study, stabbing Jefferson with hurt and anger in her lovely green eyes.  She raised her chin and calmly walked to Jefferson's side, surprised when he actually had the decency to look ashamed.  “Brute!”

       “That's _Lord_ Brute to you, little girl,” he said, his eyes narrowing with menace.  “Thought we’d already covered that.”

       Emma smiled sweetly and fluttered her lashes, right before kicking him in his shin.  His yowl of pain was sweet music to her ears.  She turned on her heel and ran out of the room, Belle right behind her.

       Robert burst out laughing and dropped into the chair behind his desk.  “I've changed my mind,” he said, his eyes sparkling with humor.

       “About what?”  Jefferson asked, rubbing his wounded leg.  “Bloody sharp-toed shoes.”

       “I think I might actually enjoy this picnic.  Bloody entertaining, in fact.”

       “Bugger off, Robbie.”

      

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it, dearies! Please drop me a line to let me know what you think. Next chapter: A picnic, a ball, yet another proposal, some MadSwan bonding and some Rumbelle smut. See you next week!


	9. Chapter 9

       “Why are you staring daggers at the back of your brother's head?” Robert asked Belle as they strolled down the path leading to the lake, his fingers twined with hers.

       Belle wasn't paying attention, however, as she watched August escort their aunt down to the area Abigail had prepared for their picnic.  More than three dozen blankets were spread in a semi-circle around the lake, spaced out enough to give their occupants enough space to hold a private conversation if they so wished, but close enough to talk or visit with their neighbor as well.

       August had been avoiding her since their arrival.  And she was more than just a little annoyed with her brother.  He was robbing and stealing…again or still, she wasn’t sure…and she was terrified he was going to be caught…or worse, hung.  How would she be able to explain that to Robert?  _Yes, darling, I'll marry you, but first I have to tell you that I'm an empath and my brother is a highwayman.  But it's alright, Robbie, I still love you.  What a coil_.

She peeked up at Robert from beneath her lashes and smiled slightly.  “I don't know.  He's been avoiding me since we arrived and I was just wondering if he were enjoying himself,” she lied smoothly, pasting a smile on her lips that didn’t betray the worry in her eyes.  Apparently satisfied with her answer, Robert led her over to his mother where she sat at a small table with Lady Dandridge.  “Mother, Lady Dandridge,” he said with a bow.  Of course, he'd never catch his dignified mother sitting on a blanket on the ground. 

       Abigail reached out to take Belle's hand, pulling her to sit on the bench beside her, ignoring Robert's raised brows.  “Belle, I do hope you enjoy the picnic,” she said brightly.  She leaned close so that only Belle could hear.  “Did you think of what we spoke of earlier?”

       “Yes, ma'am, I did,” she said with a smile, foregoing the dowager’s formal address.

       Abigail beamed at her.  “You're going to tell him?”

       “I am,” she assured Robert’s mother.  “Tonight after the ball.”

       “Lovely.”  Abigail hugged her warmly.  “You're going to make him so happy, dear.  Go on now and enjoy your luncheon,” she said, shooing her off in Robert's direction.

       Robert led Belle to a blanket under the shade of an oak tree near the water's edge and stretched out his long length, propping himself on his elbow.  Jefferson seated Emma next to Belle and assumed a similar pose, waiting for the ladies to unpack the basket resting in the center of the blanket.  Emma's eyes were still red-rimmed from her upset earlier, and Jefferson was doing his best to ignore her.

       Belle dug into the basket and pulled out a bottle of red wine, handing it to Robert to open.  Emma removed a wheel of cheese, fresh baked bread, a bit of roast pork and some fresh strawberries.  Simple fare compared to the meal they'd consumed the previous evening.  Robert looked into the basket and grinned devilishly.

       “What are you so happy about?” Belle asked absently, placing a plate she'd prepared next to Robert.

       His hand came out with a wrapped bundle that he set before her.  “Let's see what's for dessert, shall we?”

       “Let's not,” she said, her eyes widening in alarm, having no doubt what that bundle contained.  He was entirely too pleased with himself.

       Robert opened the bundle and laid it on the blanket.  Four plump chocolate covered éclairs stared back at her.  Emma cooed with delight.  “Ooooh, I just love éclairs.”

       Jefferson cocked a brow.  “Shouldn't eat too many sweets, sweetheart.  They'll make you fat.”

       Emma's gaze narrowed on his smug face.  “Are you saying I'm fat?”

       “No,” he drawled.  “I would actually have to care enough to notice.”

       “Jefferson!” Robert admonished.

       “I apologize, milady,” Jefferson subsided with a nod of his aristocratic head.

       Belle frowned and reached out with her gift.  She had no trouble reading her cousin.  Hurt.  Jefferson had hurt her feelings.  She could have kicked him.  “Emma, why don't we take our wine and go for a stroll by the lake,” she suggested with a warm smile, rising to her feet and holding her hand out to help Emma to her feet.

       Robert groaned.  “But, Belle, dearie--”

       “Eat your dessert,” was all she said and sauntered off with her cousin.

       Jefferson was shoving food into his mouth with gusto.  “Annoying little chit,” he murmured between bites, shoving half of his éclair into his mouth.

       “God, Jefferson, slow down,” Robert said in mild disgust.

       “Nope.  The sooner this is over, the sooner I can get away from _her._ ”

Robert watched the ladies stop every few feet or so to say hello to an acquaintance.  Emma was charming, her smile warm and inviting, and her eyes sparkled with laughter.  “Lady Emma's not so bad.”

       Jefferson gulped down his wine and held it out for Robert to fill.  “Not so bad?  She's disdainful, rude, insensitive, and she never stops talking.  Not so bad, he says.”

       “Hmm.”  Robert was beginning to think there was more to this than Jefferson was letting on.  “Belle says she's having a hard go of it.  With Regina Morrison as her mother it's no wonder.”

       “She's Belle's cousin, I know.  Perhaps I could try to be a little nicer,” Jefferson said sulkily, watching the little blonde shrew smile at Lord Newberry as they passed.

       “Thank you.  Wouldn't do at all to have my soon-to-be-fiancé splitting hairs with my closest friend,” Robert drawled, picking at his food.

       Belle and Emma returned to the blanket and sat down.  Robert instantly brightened as she settled next to him, and he didn't waste any time breaking off a piece of the pastry and offering it to her.  “One bite? They're your favorite,” he coaxed.

       Belle knew it was a bad idea, but she pushed the thought away and opened her mouth.  Oh sweet heaven, she thought as the flavor exploded on her tongue.  Her eyes darkened, watching Robert take a bite, knowing how he would taste if she leaned down to. . .

       “Belle!” Emma hissed in alarm.

       Belle sat up straight, heat rising in her face to stain her cheeks.

       “No. More. Éclairs.”  Jefferson said through clenched teeth and started to pack up the basket to return to the castle.  “Abby and her bright ideas.”

       “Oh, I'm sure Abby had nothing to do with the éclairs in our basket.  Did she, Robbie?” Belle asked dryly although the corners of her mouth twitched with a suppressed smile.

       That wonderful, crooked grin split his face as he rolled onto his back, his hands behind his head.  “Sure I don't know what you mean, my Belle.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       “His Grace isn't going to be able to take his eyes off of you, Miss,” Nora said as she tied a lavender ribbon around Belle's slim throat.  “You look so beautiful.”

       Belle frowned at her reflection in the full length mirror.  The lavender ball gown Robbie had sent to her in London _was_ very beautiful.  She could find no fault with it.  Nora had piled some of her curly tresses at the crown of her head in an intricate sophisticated style, leaving the rest to fall over her shoulder to cover the love bite Robert had left.  Tonight, with her ball gown she could neither wear a scarf or a shawl, so hiding it with her hair had been her only recourse.  She was ready to go down to the ball, but her nerves were so tightly wound she was afraid to move.

       “Nora, you can have the rest of the night off.  I'll be returning late and I don't want you to have to wait up for me.”

       “Thank you, Miss.  I'll just turn down the bed for you before I go and lay out your nightdress.”

       Belle remained where she was, rooted to the floor, her fear washing over her.  She had to tell him…tonight.  She took a deep breath, then another, but it wasn't helping, panic beginning to overwhelm her.

_I can't do it.  I can't tell him._

_Yes, you can.  You have to._

_Can't, can't, can't!  He'll think I'm a freak.  He won't want me anymore._

_He loves you.  He'll understand._

_No he won't._

       A tiny scream escaped her lips when a knock sounded on the heavy wooden door.  “C-Come in,” she said, her voice trembling under the weight of her nervousness.

       Robert opened the door, a deep frown of concern on his handsome face. “What's wrong, sweetling?” he asked, setting the plate he was carrying on the dresser.  “Why did you scream?”  His voice was full of concern as he pulled her into his embrace and held her tightly, his hands rubbing over her back in a soothing caress.

       Belle buried her face in his neck, reveling in his closeness.  He smelled of soap and sandalwood and Robert.  “Nerves, I suppose and your knock s-startled me.”

       “Belle, you're trembling.  That isn't nerves,” he said, cupping her face in his large hands and searching her cerulean eyes.  He rested his brow against hers and smiled.  “Tell me what's wrong.”

       “Just a simple case of nerves…I promise,” she assured him.

       Robert knew she was keeping something from him, but decided to let it pass.  He wouldn't push her, hoping she would tell him when she was ready.  He retrieved the plate from where he'd set it on the dresser and handed it to her.

       “Chocolate creams.  I snatched them off the dessert table,” he said with a wicked smile.  “I knew you wouldn't be able to have any at the ball, so I thought I would bring them up for us to share in private.”

       Belle set the plate aside on the table and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling the strip of leather out of his hair that he'd used to tie it back.  He raised his brows at her in question.  “I don't like you to tie it back.  I like it long on your collar, loose and soft so I can run my fingers through it,” she said against his lips.  “I love you, Robbie.”

       Robert claimed hers in a soft kiss, brushing, molding and finally gentling.  “I love you, too.”

       “I need to tell you something,” she said, resting her head against his chest, near his heart, listening to its steady rhythm.

       Robert glanced up at the clock on the mantel.  “It's going to have to wait, my Belle.  We're already late and I don't want my mother sending out a search party,” he teased, pulling her gently to the door.  “I promise we'll have time to enjoy our chocolates and have a nice long talk after the ball.”

       _Reprieve!_

_Coward!_

X*X*X*X*X

Jefferson stretched out his long frame on the sofa in Robert's study and breathed a sigh of relief.  His deep plum jacket was thrown over the back of the sofa and his cravat hung loose about his neck.  Finally, he could lie back and relax, already having put in his required appearance at the ball.  He reached for the glass of scotch he'd poured for himself and tossed it back, replacing the glass on the coffee table.  Staring into the fire, he sighed.  He was so weary of all the balls and parties Robert had dragged him off to of late in his quest for the fair Belle's hand.

       Raking a hand through his light brown hair, he frowned at the flames.  He was going to have to return home soon to Rochefort.  He was long overdue to go over the books and he was not looking forward to it at all.  His managers did a fine job of running the estates his father had willed to him, but he kept a careful eye on the books.  Yet, he dreaded returning to Rochefort, preferring to stay with Robert or at his townhouse in London.  Because of her…his mother.

       The study door opened and slammed quickly, drawing him out of his thoughts with a start.  He slowly raised himself on an elbow to peer over the back of the sofa.  Emma Morrison.  Hell!  Just what he needed to ruin his peace.  His eyes narrowed on her suspiciously as she stood there for a moment, her eyes darting in every direction before she ran to Robert's desk and disappeared behind it in a flash of blue silk.

       Jefferson rose from the sofa to investigate this new development when the door opened to admit Lord Wendell.  Jefferson retrieved his glass and strode to the desk to pour another scotch, a sneer marring his full mouth.  What was he even doing there, he thought, knowing the intense hatred Robert had for the man from their days at Eton.  It didn’t keep the duke from having the odd business deal or two with the man…Robert didn’t let anything stand in the way of business…but he couldn’t see how he’d managed an invite to the ball.  He must have needled it out of the dowager when he’d come by earlier to meet with Robert.

       “What are you after, Malcolm,” Jefferson asked dryly.

       “Oh, didn't see you there, Rochefort.  I'll have one of those if you don't mind,” Wendell said, dropping into the chair before the heavy oak desk.

       “Actually, I do,” Jefferson said blandly.

       “Do what?”

       “Mind.  What are you doing in here, Malcolm?”

       Wendell removed a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his scarlet jacket and wiped the perspiration from his upper lip.  He looked taken aback by Jefferson's refusal of a drink, but didn't comment.  “I was looking for Lady Emma.  I thought I saw her run in here.”

       “Well, you were mistaken.”  Jefferson edged the toe of his black boot toward the scrap of blue silk that suddenly appeared at the bottom edge of the desk and shoved it back underneath.  “And you know His Grace's study is off limits to guests, so do run along.”

       “I could've sworn she came in here,” Wendell said, his eyes searching the room for his prey.

       “As you can see, I am quite alone.  Was quite enjoying the peace and quiet, too,” Jefferson replied in a droll tone, leaning a hip against Robert’s desk.

       Lord Wendell rose to his feet.  “Sorry to have disturbed you, Rochefort.”

       Jefferson followed him to the door, turning the key in the lock behind him.  He strode to the desk and knelt behind it to find Emma cowering there, tears streaming from her closed eyes.  He reached in to take her hand, causing her to start with fright.

       “Come on out, rabbit,” he said in a rough voice, a knot of tension lodging in his chest at the sight of her tears. “It's alright.”

       “Is he gone?” she asked tremulously, her voice quavering.

       “Yes, he's gone,” he assured her, taking her hand and helping her up.

       Emma took the handkerchief he offered and dried her face, watching him closely from beneath her lashes.  Jefferson took the handkerchief from her shaking hands and replaced it with a glass of scotch.  “Drink it.”

       “Oh, I couldn't,” she said, staring down into the amber liquid with wide eyes. 

       “Drink it.  It will make you feel better,” he said softly, perching a hip on the desk next to her.

       Emma took a small sip and coughed.  Jefferson patted her back and refused to take the glass she pushed at him.  “It's like fire,” she said when she could speak.

       “All of it.  Slowly, this time,” he urged her.

       Emma glared at him over the rim of the glass and tossed it back, draining the glass and placing it into his outstretched hand, managing not to choke this time on the fire coursing down her throat.  Heat flooded her face as the alcohol hit her empty stomach and a soothing lethargy flowed through her, making her relax against the desk.

       “Feel better?” Jefferson asked, peering down at her with a raised brow.

       “Yes,” she said in surprise.

       “Want to tell me what that was all about?”

       “No,” she answered firmly, swaying unsteadily on her feet.

       “Why?” he asked gently, reaching out a hand to grip her elbow to steady her, his warm gaze caressing her face.

       Emma looked up at him and noticed his state of undress that she'd clearly missed in her earlier panic.  His jacket and cravat were missing, his waistcoat was unbuttoned as were the top buttons of his shirt, exposing his neck and a good portion of his golden chest.  She froze, incapable of speech, her deepest desire to reach up and touch that expanse of golden skin.  She shook her head, coming to her senses, and moved away from him.  What was wrong with her?  She did _not_ want to touch Jefferson Madden.  He was a brute, he was mean, he was. . . a damn fine looking man.

       “Emma,” he whispered, her name sounding like a prayer falling from his lips, gentle and seductive.  She liked the way his voice sounded when he wasn’t being droll and condescending and an unexpected warmth flooded her limbs and pooled low in her belly.  “What's wrong?  Tell me why you were running from Wendell,” Jefferson coaxed, his voice maddeningly soothing.

       “My mother made me dance with him.  She's so fixed on making a match for me she doesn't care with whom.  She doesn't care that the man is a lecherous toad, nor that he makes my flesh crawl.  All she cares for is title and wealth,” Emma said, rubbing her arms briskly to ward off the chill creeping up her spine.  “He has more hands than an octopus has tentacles.  He tried to corner me in that alcove off the ballroom…you know the one that’s hidden by the ferns…and he…”

       He released the hold he hand on her elbow and slid both hands along her upper arms, searching her eyes with an intensity that startled her.  “Did he touch you?” he demanded urgently.  “Did he touch you?” he asked with more heat to his tone when she didn’t answer immediately.

       Tears spilled from her eyes as she shook her head.  “N-No, I was able to get away from him before he could.”

       Jefferson pulled her against his chest in relief, pressing her face into his neck.  “It's alright, rabbit; don't cry.”

       Emma balled her hands into fists, clinging to his shirt.  He rubbed his hands up and down her back in a soothing manner, his face pressed to her hair.  What was he doing?  He didn't even like her…he'd said as much.  Her brow knitted into a frown, inhaling deeply, that strange fluttering returning to her stomach.  He smelled of clean linen and spice and man and the sensations it evoked in her made her head swim.  What was wrong with her?

       “Jefferson?  What are you doing to me?” she asked, her voice trembling with the wealth of emotion he brought out in her.

       Jefferson felt her tremble and he pressed her closer, his hand moving to the curve of her neck, his thumb drawing tiny circles along her pulse, his voice was a husky caress.  “Comforting you,” he whispered against her ear.

       “Why?”

       Jefferson frowned.  Why _was_ he comforting her?  She was spoiled little Emma, whom he didn’t even like…right?  He pulled back slightly, really looking at her for the first time. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips parted, begging to be kissed.  She was absolutely beautiful and he found himself wanting her, aching with the need to kiss her, to see if she’d respond to him with the passion she kept so well hidden beneath the surface.  Jefferson's jaw tightened as he felt himself harden against her.  He groaned, knowing he couldn't have her. At least not without a trip to the altar, and he wouldn't give up his freedom for this mere wisp of a girl, no matter how much he wanted her.

       Jefferson set her away from him.  “I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to be so forward.”  He had to put some distance between them, fast.  He poured himself another drink and tossed it back, reveling in the alcohol burning a path to his stomach. 

       Emma slipped her hand into his.  “Thank you, Jefferson, for saving me.”

       “I'm not your hero, Emma.”

       Emma moved to the door, turning the key.  “Think what you like, but you _did_ save me tonight,” she said softly, her voice sincere.

       Jefferson groaned, knowing this would not end well.  “Go to bed, Emma,” he said, but she didn't hear him.  She'd already slipped out the door, closing it gently behind her.  What the hell was he supposed to do with this?  Lust for little Emma?  Perish the thought.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert pressed another glass of champagne into Belle's hand and continued their stroll around the ballroom.  She was slowly beginning to relax.  After four glasses of champagne, it wasn't a surprise.  “Feeling better?”

       Belle frowned into her glass.  She knew he was trying to get her drunk, and she knew his reasons. She was, however, just tipsy enough not to care.  “Yep.”

       Robert watched her drain the glass.  He leaned close to her, his warm breath teasing the tendrils of hair near her ear that had escaped the pins.  “Dance with me.”

       Belle handed her empty glass to a passing footman and placed her hand into Robert's, allowing him to lead her out onto the floor.  A shiver of pleasure tripped up her spine as his arm wrapped tightly about her waist and pulled her to his chest.  “Your mother is going to have a fit.”

       “Why?” he breathed into her ear.

       “Because you're holding me too close,” she rasped breathily as his close proximity and his warm breath on her neck causing gooseflesh to erupt on her bare arms.

       “Are you complaining?” he asked, twirling her about the floor, never missing a step.

       “No.”  Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

       “Marry me.”

       “No.”

       “Belle.”     

       Robert was staring down at her, his dark eyes intense with the emotion he felt for her.  Belle pulled her gift more tightly into her, refusing to let him influence her…at least, not until they'd had a chance to talk.  Her stomach was doing little flips in her nervousness.   He loosened his hold on her, creating a tiny gap between their bodies.  He'd danced her past his mother, the dowager casting him a warning glare.

       “You don't want to marry me,” she murmured sadly.

       “I do, Belle.  More than anything I want you to be my wife.  I want you in my life, in my heart and in my bed.  I want to share my life with you, wake up every morning curled around you and watch you grow round with my child as we start a family.  I love you and I know you return my feelings.  That's why I can't understand why you keep refusing me,” he said, his voice laced with irritation.

       Belle took a deep breath and steeled her nerves.  “I promise I will tell you my reasons for my refusal tonight, after the ball.  Maybe then you will see why it’s such a terrible idea to shackle yourself to me.”  She curled her fingers into the soft hair at his nape, returning the hot look he was giving her.  “And no, it's not because I don't love you.  I do.”

       The waltz ended and he led her to the edge of the dance floor.  “Go, say goodnight to Mother and I'll join you upstairs in an hour,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her palm, the heat of his lips burning her through her glove, his devil dark eyes smoldering with promise.

       Belle hadn't taken three steps before her brother stepped into her path and took her hand, leading her back onto the dance floor.  _Oh joy!  Just what I need._

       “Still angry with me, Belle?” he asked, placing a hand on her waist.

       “What do you think?  I know what you've been doing,” she hissed furiously, her eyes flashing fire.

       “Well, that's all at an end,” he assured her.

       Belle missed a step in her surprise.  “What?”

       “With my winnings tonight at the card table, I now have enough money for us to go home.  When we return to London tomorrow, I'm going to book passage on the first ship to Boston.”

       Panic gripped her in a steely grasp.  “So soon?  I thought you were hiring an investigator to find out what really happened and prove your innocence before we went home.”

       “I've decided I don't want to wait any longer.  I want out of this wretched country now.”

       “But, Auggie--” she stammered.  Her world was tilting on its very fragile axis and she could feel herself falling.

       “What's wrong with you, Belle?  I thought this was what you wanted?” he asked, a puzzled frown marring his features.

       “I do,” she said softly, fighting the tears that sprung to her eyes.

       “You're lying,” he said, his eyes narrowing.  “This is about _him_ , isn't it?”

       Belle could feel her heart breaking.  She turned her tear filled eyes on her brother and said simply, “I love him.”  She ran from the dance floor, leaving him standing there staring after her in horror.  She didn't stop until she'd reached the relative safety of her room, throwing herself across the bed and pouring her grief into her pillow.

       It was several long agonizing moments before Belle dried her tears and changed into her nightdress, pulling the matching robe over her shoulders.  Washing her face in the basin on her dresser, she strengthened her resolve and waited.  She couldn't leave August to face his persecutors alone.  She would have to return with him.  The thought of leaving Robert behind was a physical pain in her chest.  She brushed at her tears once again.  She would have tonight with him and then she would do what must be done.

      

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Robert tossed his jacket over the back of the wingback chair set before the hearth in his room, pulling at his cravat.  His valet cringed as he watched the duke mangle the intricate folds. 

       “Evening, John,” Robert greeted him, taking the glass of scotch he offered. “Help me off with these boots.”

       “Did you have a pleasant evening, Your Grace?” John asked, pulling Robert's boots off and rolling the hose from his feet.  He grimaced as Robert tossed back the contents of his glass and starting popping open the buttons on his waistcoat, knowing a few wouldn't survive the stress.

       “Immensely,” he said dryly.  “Now, you may go.  I am quite tired and wish to retire.”

       “As you wish, Your Grace.”  John cast one last glance at the jacket lying over the chair back and shook his head.  He hated to leave Robert's fine evening clothes lying willy nilly about the room, but he couldn't disobey a direct order.

       Robert breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the valet close the door behind him.  He poured water from the pitcher into the bowl and washed his face, running his wet hands through his hair.  Pouring himself another drink, he carried it with him to stand by the fire, tossing it back and shedding his waistcoat, laying it over the chair with his jacket before turning back to gaze into the fire.  He was trying to give her the full hour he'd promised. 

       Robert pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and lifted the lid, staring at the betrothal ring within.  A square cut blue sapphire, so light in color it matched her eyes with a single diamond on either side in a platinum setting.  It was his mother's ring, given to her by his father.  Abigail had pressed the box into his hand when he'd gone to bid her goodnight, giving him her blessing. Now if he could only get it on Belle's finger, he thought wryly.  A slow smile curved his lips at the sound of the key in the lock behind him.  _She_ had come to _him._   He remained still where he stood at the hearth, waiting for her with bated breath.

       He didn't have long to wait.  Robert could feel the heat rolling off of her as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, slipping her hands into his unbuttoned shirt.  He pressed her hand to his heart, reveling in the feel of her soft breasts pressed into his back.  He opened the box he'd set on the mantle and removed the ring, taking her hand and sliding the ring onto her finger.

       Belle froze, jerking her arms from around his waist.  “What the hell is this, Robert?” she asked, staring down at the ring on her finger, her eyes wide and accusing.

       Robert shoved his hands into the pockets of his breeches to stop himself from gathering her into his arms.  “Your betrothal ring, sweetling,” he said, still staring into the fire.  “I just wanted to see if it fit.”

       It did.  It was a perfect fit and the most beautiful ring she'd ever seen, simply because it was a symbol of his love for her.  “It's lovely, Robbie.” A single tear slid down her face as she removed it and placed it back in the box.

       Robert closed his eyes against the pain in his chest.  “But you still won't have me,” he stated simply.

       His pain washed over Belle, nearly making her double over with it.  “Day after tomorrow, August is booking passage for us to return home and I have to go with him.”

       “Why?” he asked, his teeth clenched against the pain of his shattering heart.

       “Because I can't let him go alone to face his accusers.  He has no one else,” she said, her tears falling in earnest now.

       Robert's jaw was tight with his anger, with his pain at the prospect of losing her.  “No.”

       “Robbie, I don't have a choice,” she whispered, wanting so badly to touch him, to comfort him, but afraid to put her hands on him, afraid of his reaction.

       “No, you're not leaving.  You'll stay here with me until my man returns from America,” he replied stiffly.

       “What?” she gaped incredulously.

       “I know you didn't want me to help you, so I didn't tell you.”

       “Tell me what?”  What had he done?

       “I sent Ernest Campbell to Portland to investigate your parent’s death in the hopes of clearing August's name,” he explained.  “He should return in a little more than a month with news.”  He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to him, his lips mere inches from hers.  “You can't leave me, Belle.”

       Hope sprang up in her chest, a tiny flicker.  “Why?  When did you do this?”

       “The night you kissed me in the garden at the Hastings ball,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth.  “The night we discovered what a heady combination chocolate and kisses could be.” He kissed the other side of her mouth.  “The night I knew I loved you.”  With that last, he took full possession of her lips, thrusting his hands into her hair, pins flying, to hold her still under the onslaught of his mouth.

       Belle's control was slipping away from her.  “Robbie,” she gasped against his lips.  “Robbie, please stop.”  His eyes were full of hurt as he pulled away from her.  “No, no that's not what I meant,” she said, pulling him back to her.

       “What is it you want of me, Belle?” he asked, his voice full of the frustration he was feeling, that she herself was feeling.  “You love me, but you won't marry me.  You want me, but you don't want me to make love to you.  Tell me what you _do_ want.”  Robert moved out of her arms, raking his hand through his hair.

       “There's a reason I can't marry you, Robbie,” she began.  “I'm lowborn for one, and you're a bloody duke.”

       “Not good enough.  Try again,” he said wearily, pouring himself another scotch.

       “My mother was a gypsy.  She caused a scandal when she married my father that drove them out of the country.”

       Robert was quickly losing his patience.  He tossed his drink back and took a step forward, his eyes glinting in the firelight, stalking her.  Each step he took forward, she retreated until she had the chair between them.  “Try again, sweetheart.  I’ve been aware of the circumstances of your birth from the very beginning.  Still not a good enough reason to prevent me from marrying you.”

       “My mother was an empath,” she blurted out.

       “A what?” he asked, her revelation bringing him up short.

       “She could feel emotions, other people's emotions.  She could pull them into herself and project them back,” she said, her voice quavering with her fear, fear of having him look back at her with loathing.  “My mother was so gifted, she could even project her thoughts.”

       Robert stared at her blankly.  “That's the best you've got?  You can't be honest with me?  You have to come up with some farfetched story?”

       _God's knees! The man was thick!_

       She braced her shoulders with determination and concentrated on his dark eyes, forcing him to meet her gaze.  _I love you, Robert Gold.  I'm not lying to you, because I can do it too._   His eyes widened as she opened her heart and projected every ounce of her love at him.  He was dumbfounded, his lips parted in horror.  She knew this was going to happen and her heart disintegrated into a million pieces, finally having lost him.

       Tears began again as she turned and put her hand on the door to her room.  “That's the reason I can't marry you, Robbie.  I can't risk letting someone find out.  It would ruin you and I love you too much to let that happen.”

       With that, she entered her room, closing the door with a soft click, leaving him standing there in awe.  _Holy hell!_   Never had he felt anything so pure as her love flowing into him straight from her heart.  And he knew he'd never feel anything so wondrous again.  Belle's love was magical and he thanked God for her…and he'd let her walk out on him.  _Fuck!_

       He refused to let her fears keep them apart.  They could be married immediately.  He finally had her.  She was finally going to say yes.  He would use her own gift against her if he had too.  Ruled by her emotions as she was, she wouldn't be able to resist his charms.

       Robert threw open the door to her room, searching the shadows for her.  She'd thrown herself across the bed, great heaving sobs wracking her petite frame.  The door slamming into the wall made her sit up, her hand over her heart.  Robert didn't say a word.  He just scooped her up into his arms and carried her back to his room.

       “W-What are you doing?” she asked, her voice catching on a hiccup from her sobs.

       Robert didn't answer, he simply caught her lips with his.  He laid her down in the center of the massive four poster bed that dominated his room and gathered her in his arms.  “What does it look like I'm doing?”  His hands pulled the remaining pins from her hair and tossed them aside, spreading her dark locks across his pillow.  “I've dreamed of what you would look like in my bed,” he whispered, his lips trailing along her jaw.

       “Y-You still want me?” she asked, her voice full of wonder.

       “I'll always want you, sweetling,” he said, his hand trailing over the curve of her hip.

       “But, I'm a freak,” she insisted.  “If anyone—”

       “I don't care who knows.  I don't care if _everyone_ knows.”  His teeth grazed the curve of her neck and a moan escaped her parted lips.  “I love you.  I want to feel your heart every day for the rest of my life.  That's what I care about,” he moaned passionately, his body hovering inches above her own.

       “But--” she protested weakly, but she was losing her focus.  She couldn't remember why she was protesting with his hand moving over her hip, pulling her nightdress higher to caress her bare thigh.  “Robbie, I--”

       Robert's eyes never left her, and she felt like she was drowning, being sucked into an abyss where she would lose herself in his desire.  His tongue rasped lightly over the mark he’d left on her, his low growl of pleasure filling her ears, the sound sending sparks of sensation coursing through her.  She wanted this more than she’d ever wanted anything before, could see clearly the future she could have with him if only she gave in and accepted what he was offering with his whole heart. 

       With trembling fingers she pushed his open shirt over his shoulders, tossing it to the floor, spreading her hands out over his bare chest.  He sighed, pressing his face into the crook of her neck and stilling above her, his breath caught in his throat as he arched into her touch.  He whimpered slightly as her nails grazed over his flat nipple, his arms shaking as he tried to hold himself above her when all he wanted was to crush her to his chest and take her with all the raw animal passion lurking deep within him which left him hot and burning with the need to make her his.

       Hesitantly she leaned up and pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat and gasped as she felt the same sensations he did.  She nipped at his collarbone, growing bolder in her exploration, losing track of where his pleasure ended and hers began.

       Rolling over with her in his arms so that she straddled him, Robert pulled her nightdress over her head, and he stopped just to stare at her, his mouth curved into that crooked smile she adored.  She was beginning to feel self-conscious, exposed as she was to his scrutiny.  She crossed her arms over her breasts, a blush rising to stain her cheeks.

       He pulled one hand to his lips and kissed her palm, his tongue darting out to taste her and then placing her hand on his chest.  “Don't hide from me, Belle,” he said, repeating the action with her other hand.

       Belle slid her hands up his chest and into the hair at his nape, curling her fingers in it and pulling his lips up to meet hers.  He raised his shoulders off the pillows and sat up with her, wrapping her legs around his waist.  She shivered, feeling his hardness throb against the scorching heat between her thighs.  He spent long moments just holding her, his hands moving restlessly over her sides, her back, over the gentle curve of her hips, showing a patience he didn’t know he possessed as he plundered her mouth.  He was burning for her, the need to bury himself within her folds nearly overwhelming, but he would not show her what a beast he could be.  This was his Belle, the woman he loved, the _only_ woman he’d ever loved and she would know only pleasure in his bed.

He bent her back over his arm, taking her nipple into his mouth and she cried out, her hands fisting in his hair as she held him to her.  He rolled it between his lips before grazing it with his teeth, merciless in his ministrations as the little cries escaping her throat spurred him on.  She bucked against his arousal and he curled his hands over the gentle curves of her hips to still her movements, fighting to hold on to his last shred of control.  His eyes met hers as he dragged his tongue along the valley between her breasts and she gasped, never having seen anything like the intense need that radiated from their depths.  She shivered as he squeezed her other breast gently, paying the same attention to it as he’d done to the other.

       Robert rolled over with her once again and muffled her scream with his lips, his tongue delving into her sweet mouth, and she tasted like heaven.  She would always taste like chocolate to him, and the more he touched her, the more control slipped away through his fingers.

       Belle balled her hands into fists, twisting them in the bedcovers.  “Robbie, please,” she begged.  She whined in protest as his now familiar weight left her, but he didn’t go far, she saw as she raised her head in search of where he'd gone.  _He's completely naked!_   Panic rose up in her as she took him in, wondering how he was ever going to fit, but she trusted him.  In every other way they fit together perfectly, so why not there as well.  _He's absolutely glorious,_ she thought, her tongue snaking out to wet her suddenly dry lips.

       “What did you say?” he asked, smiling broadly.

       “You heard me?” she asked as he knelt on the bed, his hands firmly grasping her hips as he moved over her to settle between her legs.

       “Yes,” he said, fully exposed to her gift.  It was part of her and he would accept it regardless.  Her lower lip trembled as he gathered her into his embrace, and slid a single long finger into her.  Belle arched her back, gasping for breath.  She was so ready for him, her folds dripping with her arousal and he groaned as her inner walls clenched around his fingers.  He pressed his thumb to her clit, again having to muffle her scream with his lips, swallowing it down and returning it with a cry of his own.  She writhed beneath him, lost in a swirl of sensations, her grasping little hands pulling him tighter against her.  He adjusted his weight so he wouldn't crush her, poised at the entrance to her body.

       “Look at me, Belle,” he said, his voice strained with control.  She opened her eyes, her gaze heavy-lidded with desire.  “Marry me,” he whispered against her lips.

       “What?!” she gasped.  “You're going to ask now?”

       “Say it,” he implored, just the head of his cock slowly slipping into her wet heat

       “No,” she moaned, still hesitant to give him the answer he wanted.

       “Say it or I will stop right now,” he murmured, biting gently at the mark he’d left upon her flesh.

       Belle's eyes widened.  “You wouldn't…couldn't.”

       “I will,” he assured her, his teeth clenched together as his determination waged war with his raging desire.  He groaned as she raised her leg to hook over his hip, her heel digging into his lower back and intensifying his need to thrust into her. “I love you, Belle.  Say it.  I need to hear you say it.”

       “I love you,” she whispered softly against his lips, kissing him with everything she had.  He slipped his hand between their bodies and found her clit once more, circling it with his thumb as she shivered with her pleasure.

       “Say it, Belle.”

       Belle brushed the hair out of his eyes and cupped his face in her hands.  “I-I will,” she vowed, her voice trembling with emotion.

       “Thank God,” Robert gasped into her neck as he thrust into her, groaning as her walls tightened around him.  He looked down at his precious girl who’d given him so much already and he was overwhelmed with the sheer joy of joining with her.  He remained perfectly still, letting her become accustomed to his weight and the sensation of being filled by him.  Belle looked up at him, a tear escaping to roll down her face.  “Did I hurt you?” he asked, kissing the corner of her mouth, her nose and then the tears from her lashes.

       “No,” she breathed, looking up at him with wonder and desire and all the love she felt for him.

       “Then why are you crying?”

       “Because I can feel your heart,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. Robert brushed a damp curl away from her brow as he lowered his lips to hers, kissing her gently, reverently…thanking her for the gift of her heart as well as her body. 

       She moved her hips, pulling him deeper inside her, a small gasp escaping her lips from the pure pleasure of it all.  He closed his eyes and pressed his face into the curve of her neck, nipping at the sensitive spot beneath her ear as he thrust into her.  She matched his rhythm, somehow knowing what he wanted, matched him thrust for thrust until there it was.  Her sun burning so bright it was burning her until it exploded and brought her over the edge, bringing Robert with her until they lay sated and spent.

       Robert rolled to her side, trying to catch his breath, the only sound in the room that of their labored breath.  He pulled her against his side, his hands smoothing over her back as he rained kisses over her brow.  “Are you alright, my Belle?”

       “I’m always alright when I’m with you,” she murmured sleepily, pressing a kiss to his chest as she wrapped her arm about his waist and snuggled closer.

       “Stay with me tonight?” he asked, unable to bear the thought of her returning to her own bed.  He finally had her answer…the answer he’d yearned to hear and there was no reason for them to be parted ever again.  She would be his wife…forever…and he wanted it to begin now.

       “Yes, I’ll stay and then you can speak to August in the morning.  He won’t be pleased, but…”

       “I won’t let him take you from me, my Belle, even if I have to abduct you and elope to Gretna Green,” he promised, pulling the coverlet over them and relaxing back into the pillows.  “You may depend upon it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t my favorite chapter, lol. She finally said yes! And she told him her secret. I so hope you all enjoyed it. Next chapter will be a confrontation with August, a lovely scene with Belle and Emma and a wedding!!! I can’t tell you how much all the reviews and comments mean to me. I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Until next Saturday, dearies!!!
> 
> I’m also posting a new fic this week. It’s a crossover SGU/OUAT Rushbelle story. Two very dear friends of mine begged me to start at the beginning and throw our dear Belle into the mix. Just in case you’re interested (-:


	10. Chapter 10

       Robert smiled sleepily and tightened his arms around Belle as she stretched and ran her hand up his chest and around his neck, curling her fingers in his hair.  What was that incessant noise to ruin the euphoria that surrounded them?  He pulled the bedcovers more securely about them as Belle nuzzled her face into his neck.  He could definitely get used to waking in the morning with her wrapped around him, her leg thrown over his hip.

_Tap! Tap! Tap!_

A frown furrowed his brow, his irritation growing as the tapping persisted.  What the hell was that?  Belle kissed his neck just below his ear and he shivered.  “Robbie, make it stop,” she moaned grumpily, still half asleep.

       _Taptaptaptaptaptap_ _…_

       The door to Belle's bedroom flew open and banged against the wall, bringing Robert fully awake and no longer in a playful mood.  Whoever it was wanted Belle and she wasn't where she was supposed to be.  “Isobel Whitmore!” August yelled, finding her bed rumpled but her nowhere to be seen.

       Belle leaned back in Robert's arms to turn her wide frightened gaze to his.  She peeked over his shoulder at the door connecting their rooms and ducked her head under the covers.  Robert didn't move, simply hoping the bastard would leave without a confrontation.  Perhaps if her brother would search for her elsewhere, he'd get a few more hours in bed with his fiancé.

       Now, Jefferson's voice joined August's in Belle's room.  “What the bloody hell are you shouting about, Whitmore? It's barely eight in the morning!”

       “My sister is missing!” he growled back.  Now they were both shouting and Robert was getting more agitated by the moment.  _She's not missing, she's in my bed where she belongs,_ he thought smugly.

       “Oomph,” he grunted as Belle jabbed him sharply in the ribs.  “You heard that?” he whispered.

       Belle pressed her face into his chest.  _I can't control my gift when I'm this frightened,_ she thought at him frantically, hysteria rising in her chest.  As careful as they’d been…what was she saying?  She was more than a little surprised they hadn’t been caught before now.  There was still hope they wouldn’t be forced to the altar and have to endure yet another scandal attached to her name.  Oh, who was she kidding?  This had the makings of an epic disaster.  It wouldn’t matter in the least that she’d already accepted his proposal.

       “Maybe she couldn't sleep and went for a walk.  Did you ever think about that, you bloody ass,” Jefferson shouted.  “There _are_ more people in this wing of the castle than just your sister--”

       Robert groaned.  “Shut up, Jeff, for Christ's sake.”

       “--who do not relish having to get out of the bed at this ungodly hour to the tune of your beastly shouting!”

       Jefferson had positioned himself in front of the connecting door to bar August's intrusion, but August's rage couldn't be contained.  He pushed past Jefferson and barged into Robert's suite, his gaze landing on the bed's occupants.  His face was mottled with rage, his hands balled into fists.  Jefferson was just behind him, his shirt unbuttoned, his eyes widening with surprise.  He hadn't been lying about having been woken by August's shouting, Robert thought.  The earl was in a state of near undress, having left his room in great haste to avert what was sure to be a painful scene for his friends.  He’d felt honor bound to intercede if he could.

       Robert swung his legs over the side of the bed without revealing Belle and pulled his pants on.  “Just what the bloody hell is going on?” he asked with quiet menace.  He could feel Belle's panic in his head.  _“God's toes, don't provoke him, Robbie!”_

“Aha!  I knew she'd be with you! You bounder!”  August jerked the bedcovers back to reveal Belle in all her glory.  “Don't provoke me?  You've done that yourself.”

       Jefferson covered his eyes with one hand and groaned.  “Well.  Just.  Shit.”

       Belle's  dove over the opposite side of the bed, her voice a furious hiss.  “Auggie, you ass!  Get out!” she yelled, retrieving Robert's shirt from the floor, pulling it closed and doing up the buttons with shaking fingers.  He remained where he was, his fists clenching and unclenching.   “Don't even think about it, August Charles.” she warned.

       Robert knew it was inevitable, but he wasn't expecting Belle to step in front of him to take the brunt of August's rage.  But Robert had the advantage, having trained in the ring.  He was a first class pugilist, whereas August was a brawler.  Robert merely wrapped his left arm around Belle's waist, moving her to the side, his right flying forward, breaking August's nose as the man’s stride propelled him into it.

       Jefferson chuckled heartily.  “Well done, Robbie.”  He picked up a towel lying next to the water pitcher and tossed it to August where he was writhing on the floor, holding his oozing nose in both hands, curses emitting from his lips in a steady stream.

       Belle knelt beside her brother and held the towel to his nose, brushing his hands away.  Robert cringed as he watched her pinch August's nose, give it a hard pull and move it into place.

       “Holy damnation, Belle,” August screamed.  “You don't have a kind bone in your body.  The least you could've done was dull the pain,” he said accusingly.

       “You can do that?” Robert asked, his voice filled with awe.  “You could take away his pain?”

       “Yes, but he's undeserving of my help just now.”

       “What're you two on about?” Jefferson asked with a yawn.

       “Nothing,” they answered in unison.

       Belle turned August's face back and forth, surveying her handiwork.  “Alright, Auggie, you'll live,” she said, rising to her feet.  “Now kindly take yourself off.”

       “This is far from finished, Belle.”  He picked himself off the floor and turned to glare at Robert.  “You've had her, now you'll marry her.”

       Robert merely grinned and took Belle's hand in his, holding it up so August could see the sapphire and diamond ring resting on her fourth finger.  “Belle agreed to be my wife _before_ I took her to my bed,” he said matter-of-factly.  He'd gotten up after he'd made love to her for the third time and slipped it onto her finger before they'd let sleep finally claim them.

       “Well, I'm happy to see that's settled,” an imperious voice announced from the doorway.  Abigail stood there in her dressing gown, having rushed downstairs to discover the cause of the commotion.  “I shall begin the preparations at once.”

       “Mother, I--” Robert began, but she cut him off with a raised hand.

       “I could've wished you would have handled this differently, but it is what it is.”  Abigail turned to leave.  “We will continue this conversation in your study in an hour, all of you.  And, Robert, do put some clothes on, dear.”

       Abigail swept out of the room, her head held high, as if she encountered such displays on a daily basis.  Robert tried not to laugh, he really did.  Jefferson just shook his head.  The inevitable had finally occurred and Robert had what he wanted.  Belle didn't find it funny, a blush staining her cheeks.  Robert pulled her into his arms, earning a heated glare from her brother.

       Belle poked him in the ribs.  “It's not funny.  I'm so embarrassed.  It's not bad enough being caught by Auggie, no.  But your mother, too.”

       _God!  What a coil._

 

X*X*X*X*X*X

 

       “Belle!”

       Belle had taken one step onto the grand staircase when she heard Emma calling to her.  She held out her hand to her cousin to steady her.  “What is it, Emma?”

       Emma was out of breath, having run from the east wing, her chest heaving from her exertion.  Belle knew Regina would have kittens to see her daughter in such a state.  Her hair was loose about her shoulders, having left her room before Bridgette could dress it for her.

       “What happened to August?  Is it true?”

       Dread began to bubble up in Belle's stomach.  “Is what true?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

       “That His Grace broke August's nose.”

       “Yes,” Belle admitted with a grimace.  She leaned closer to Emma so only her cousin could hear.  “What else did he say to you?”

       Emma sighed deeply.  “It would've been better if he had told me.  Instead, I overheard him telling my mother that he found you in His Grace's bed this morning.  And when he tried to defend your honor, His Grace broke his nose,” she said, whispering furiously.  “But, Belle, you know how my mother is.  It's going to be all over the castle before breakfast.  And she's just vindictive enough to twist the facts and make you out to be a harlot.”

       _Holy hell!  This morning was just getting better and better.  And breakfast hadn't even been served yet._

       “It's just amazing to have to claim her as family,” Belle said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

       “How can you be so calm?  She's going to ruin you, Belle.”

       “Emma, it doesn't matter what she says.  I had already accepted Robbie's marriage proposal.  Do you really think I give a damn what the _ton_ thinks of me?

       Emma gripped Belle's hand tightly, her blue eyes wide and frightened.  “You don't know them like I do.  They are like a pack of wolves.  They live for gossip of this caliber.”

       “But if we're married, it shouldn't matter.”  Belle couldn't understand Emma's distress.  She and Robert loved each other and were to be married.  Why would anyone care whether or not they ended up in bed together before rather than after the wedding?

       Jefferson rounded the corner to descend the stairs and stopped abruptly.  “I thought you would be downstairs already, Belle,” he remarked, frowning.  “Nothing better to do this morning, rabbit, rather than stand about spreading tales?”

       Belle looked between the two, feeling the tension pouring off of Emma. “I was just on my way down.  I just stopped for a moment to speak with my dear cousin.  Be nice, Jeff,” she admonished.  “August has shared the events of this morning with my aunt and Emma seems to think I'm going to be ruined.”

       “Bloody hell!  We've got to stop her,” Jefferson said, running a hand through his hair in irritation.

       Emma brightened, her smile radiant.  “I'll fix it.  I know the best way to stem gossip is to have a _better_ piece of gossip to make the first piece of gossip pale in comparison.”

       “What?” Jefferson and Belle said in unison, sharing a confused look.  “What are you going to do, little girl?”

       Emma leveled him with a devious smile, bristling at him thinking her nothing more than a little girl.  “Don't worry about it, Brute.  Just know that my mother will not get away with spreading her evil…not if I have anything to say about it.”  Emma left them on the stairs, and made her way to the parlor to enact her plan.  Jefferson stared after her in surprise.

       “Since when is she all about saving your skin?”

       Belle smiled.  “I think my dear cousin is growing up, Jeff.  Come on,” she said, pulling him along with her.  “Robbie and Abby are no doubt waiting for us.”

       “What about your brother?” he asked, raising a dubious brow.

       “Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”

 

X*X*X*X*X     

      

       Abigail was already seated in the chair behind Robert's desk, when Belle arrived, Jefferson just behind her.  August was lying on the sofa, holding a cold towel to his swollen nose and Robert was leaning casually against the wall by the fireplace, sipping a cup of coffee.  His warm gaze followed her over the rim of his cup as she took a seat before his desk.

       “Well,” Abigail began.  “Now that everyone's here, who has an idea of how to resolve this…er…peacefully?”

       Jefferson poured himself a cup of the steaming brew and perched a hip on the desk.  “I'm at a loss, Abby.  It seems Mr. I-can't-keep-my-bloody-mouth-shut blabbed to Regina Morrison and she's running about the castle spreading the tale to anyone who will listen.”

       August lifted the towel from his nose to sneer at Jefferson.  “She's family.  She has a right to know what kind of mess her niece has gotten herself into,” August snarled in an icy tone.

       Belle ground her teeth together and imagined herself walking over to August and twisting his nose.  She grinned with satisfaction at his yowl of pain and poured herself a cup of tea.

       “Belle, cease your tricks at once,” August snarled.

       Abigail sat back in her chair and fixed them both with a blank stare.  “Mr. Whitmore, I am merely tolerating your presence in this room because you are Belle's closest male relative and responsible for her.  Do not make me change my mind and have you evicted.”

       Robert spoke up for the first time since Belle had entered the study.  “Mother, reach into the center drawer of my desk, please.”

       Abigail did as he instructed, shocked by its contents.  “You’ve obtained a special license?  Signed by the Archbishop?” she asked, never before having grasped the seriousness of Robert's intent before that moment.  “Then you can be married immediately.  When did you do this?”

       “Before I left London…just in case she actually accepted my suit this weekend.  I've already sent Travers for the reverend,” he said, moving to Belle's side.  “We can be married this afternoon.  If you'll still have me.”

       “She doesn't have a choice,” August snarled from around the towel, his voice somewhat muffled through the cloth.

       “Yes, she does,” Robert said, turning to glare at her brother.  “I'm not going to force her.”

       Belle rose from her chair and cupped his face in her hands, gazing tenderly into those eyes she loved so much.  “You don't have to.  I gave you my word that I would marry you before the roof was dropped in on us this morning,” she said with a small smile.  “I love you.”

       Robert crushed her to him, releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he waited for her to answer.  There was always that niggling voice at the back of his mind whispering that she’d change her mind.  It wasn’t enough that she’d promised him, in the privacy of his bedroom, that she’d marry him.  For her to give the same answer in mixed company confirmed the seriousness of the matter.  .Abigail hid a smile behind her hand.  Jefferson smirked into his coffee cup and August held his tongue, for once.

       Abigail rose from behind Robert's desk and embraced Belle.  “Welcome to the family, my dear,” she said warmly.  “I have to admit I didn't think you would suit him at first.  But all I want is his happiness, and I see now that you _do_ make him happy.”

       August pushed himself up from the sofa and rounded on his sister.  “Happiness,” he scoffed.  “Just how long do you expect that love to last once he finds out about your gift?  He'll shun you and then you'll have nothing.  Nothing but a damaged reputation and a scandal.  You--”

       “He knows,” she said quietly.  “And he doesn't care.”

       “What?”

       “Knows what?” Jefferson asked, only to be shushed by Abigail.

       Robert tucked Belle firmly to his side, his hand resting on her waist in a possessive manner.  “She showed me last night and it doesn't matter.”

       August was beyond listening to reason.  “How could I have let this happen?  You're my sister, my twin.  You're letting your lust drive you into this.  What happens when your passion cools, Belle, and you realize you've thrown your life away for your precious feelings.  Feelings that may not even be real?  I should have never let you talk me into coming to this wretched country.  It's all my fault that you're throwing your life away on a blasted Englishman.”

       Belle stepped out of Robert's embrace and blasted August with the heat of her gaze, past the end of her patience.  “Since when have you cared about anyone but yourself, Auggie?  I've done everything you've ever asked of me because you're my brother and I love you.  You have no idea what my feelings are.  You may be able to get a glimpse of them because I can't always keep you out, but you can't possibly realize how powerful they are.  You've nothing to compare them to because you've never experienced them firsthand.  You're cold and calculating and selfish.  There's no love in your heart for anyone but yourself.”

       “Belle, you don't know what you're saying,” he protested, rising from the sofa.  He towered over her by several inches and he used that difference to try to intimidate her and bend her to his will.  It had worked so well in the past, but now he could see it was a futile effort.  She’d changed, no longer the girl he’d known, but rather the woman she’d so recently become.

       “I know better than anyone just what a bastard you are, August.  You blame yourself because I'm ruined and forced to marry?  Well, maybe if you had been more worried about me instead of playing highwayman, I wouldn't be in this situation,” she shouted, watching the color drain from her brother's face.  Only then did she calm enough to realize what she'd said in the heat of her anger.

       And then all hell broke loose.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle could feel the barely controlled fury emanating from Robert and Jefferson as they pinned August to the wall, each of them holding one of August's arms tight against the oak paneling.  It was all her fault.  She'd let August provoke her into spilling all his secrets.  It might not have been so bad if Jefferson hadn't been one of his victims.

       "Thieving bastard,” Jefferson gritted out between clenched teeth, plowing his fist into August's stomach.

       Robert said nothing, content to let his friend dole out the punishment the American so deserved.  He just wished Belle wasn't there to witness it.  “Belle, dearie, why don't you run along and see about getting ready for our wedding.  You don't need to witness this.”

       “Belle!”  August gasped, hurriedly tilting his head to the right to avoid Jefferson’s balled fist.  “Tell them.”

       “Enough of this!” Abigail shouted over the grunts of pain issuing from August’s bruised and bloodied lips.  “Enough!”

       Jefferson stilled and stepped back, releasing him and breathing hard from the exertion.  Robert let go as well and let August crumple to the floor.  “You're out of shape, Jeff.  A few rounds with me at the club'll sort you out.”

       Jefferson shot an icy glare at his friend.  “Be much more fun with him in the ring.  We could take turns,” he replied icily.  “What do you suggest we do with him?”

       Robert was torn.  He didn't want to cause Belle any undue stress, especially today.  “We could lock him in the cellar?”

       Belle knelt down to see what damage Jefferson had done to her brother, emitting a small gasp as August's pain rolled over her.  She ignored Robert and concentrated, willing August's pain into a tiny ball and pulling it into herself.  It was her fault he was lying there unconscious.  Maybe now he wouldn't hurt quite so badly when he awoke.  She collapsed next to him and pressed her brow to the carpet, curling into a fetal position.

       “Belle!” Robert shouted, kneeling next to her.  “What did you do?”

       “I'll be alright.  Just don't touch me just yet,” she warned, not wanting what she was feeling to somehow get away from her control and transmit to him.

       “Get some footmen to remove him to the cellar and lock him in.  We can deal with this mess later,” Robert said to Jefferson.  He turned to his mother.  “Do what you can to prepare for the ceremony this afternoon while I see to Belle,” he said, lifting her into his arms and striding from the room.  He really didn't give a damn about what happened to August at the moment.  His sole concern was for the bundle in his arms, lying as still as death.

       Robert strode across the great hall shouting orders in every direction, servants scurrying to obey them with all haste.  “I need water and fresh towels brought to my bedchamber.”  He was almost to the stairs when he noticed Regina standing about with several of her cronies, their heads bent together, gossip running rampant between them.  “And have my mother clear the guests out of my bloody house.  Party's over, now!”

       Robert took the stairs two at a time, trying not to jostle Belle.  She was beginning to break out in a sweat, her skin clammy, and her breathing labored.  What had she done to herself?  He kicked the door open to his bedchamber and laid her down gently on the freshly made bed.  As soon as he released her, Belle rolled onto her side and curled into a ball, moaning softly.

       “Belle, you have to tell me what to do for you.  What have you done?  How can I help you?” he asked, his voice gentle.  He sat on the bed beside her and stroked the hair away from her brow.  “Please.”

       Her voice was a broken whisper.  “Try—trying to con-contain it.”

       “Contain what? Belle, you're not making sense.”

       Nora brought the water he'd ordered and poured it into the porcelain pitcher on the dresser, wetting a towel and bringing it to him.  He folded the cool cloth and bathed her face with it.  It seemed to bring her some relief because slowly she began to uncurl herself from the ball she'd made of her frame.  Her eyes opened and the lines of pain around her mouth seemed to ease.

       “Better?”

       “A bit,” she said softly, her voice raspy.  “I'm sorry I frightened you.  That wasn't my intent.”

       Robert took another cool cloth from Nora and laid it against Belle's brow. “Want to tell me what that was all about?” His voice was quiet, concerned.

       There was no way Belle was going to be able to brush this away.  This was just another aspect of her gift and if they were going to share their lives she would have to be completely honest with him.  “I took Auggie's pain away.”

       “I beg your pardon,” he said arching one dubious brow.

       Belle lifted her hand and smoothed it over his brow, returning it to its former position.  “That's really irritating, Robbie.  You don't have to be so skeptical all the time.”  Belle sighed deeply, relishing the fact that she could breathe now without it feeling like a thousand knives were stabbing her flesh.  “I took his pain away.  Literally.”

       “How?”

       “I don't know, Robbie.  It's just something I can do.  But because I took it from him, I had to endure it for a time,” she tried explaining to him. “Every action has a reaction…a price to be paid.”

       “And the pain? It's gone now?” he asked, a frown marring his perfect mouth.

       “Yes.  It's completely gone.”

       Robert gathered her into his arms, holding her to him tightly, ignoring Nora standing nearby.  “Don't ever do that again.  Do you hear me?”

       “I'll remember that when you stub your toe, or come home with a split lip from spending time in the ring.  I'll remember you making me promise.”  Belle brushed his hair away from his eyes and smiled up at him.  “That's why I didn't want you to touch me earlier.  I didn't want to take the chance that you would feel it too.”

       “Tell me what I can do to make you feel better,” he whispered against her lips.

       “Not that,” she said, kissing him back.  “We've gotten into enough trouble already.  I just need to soak in the tub for a while and I'll be good as new.”

       “Nora, please order a bath for our lady,” he said, not sparing a glance for the maid. 

       Belle watched Nora leave, frowning at the door.  “Robbie, what are you going to do about Auggie?”

       “I don't know yet.  We've locked him in the cellar until after the ceremony so he can't do any more damage on that front.  I haven't decided if I'm going to hand him over to the authorities or deal with this myself.  There’s always the opportunity to make a deal.  I could easily offer him freedom in exchange for my silence.  And I happen to hold several of his gambling markers to sweeten the pot.  But that will depend upon the report I receive from my agent I sent to Portland.”  Robert was pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed, making her dizzy.  She rubbed her eyes and laid back into the pillows wearily.

       “I don't want him to find himself at the end of a hangman's noose, Robert.  He might be an ass, but he is still my brother.  Can't you just keep him locked up until your man gets back from Portland?” she asked hopefully.  “Then if it turns out he's innocent we can send him home.”

       “But, dearie, he's a thief.  He committed a crime,” Robert said, trying to reason with her. “We have to take that into consideration.  What if he tries again?”

       “I know, but his reasons were honorable.  He promised me from the beginning that he would only steal enough to hire an investigator to uncover the truth so we could go home.  No one even got hurt.  He was desperate!”

       Robert froze.  “Holy hell!  You've known about this from the beginning,” he accused.  “Who was his accomplice, Belle,” realization dawning on him.

       Belle's guilt showed on her face.  “Um--”

       “It was you! Please tell me I'm wrong.  Lie to me,” he pleaded.  “Forget it, I changed my mind.  Don't tell me anything.”  Robert looked as if he were about to pull his hair out by the roots.  “Thankfully, you will soon be my wife and I won’t be forced to testify against you.”

       “I only went with him the one time.  When he robbed Jefferson,” she admitted, rolling to the far side of the bed and coming to her feet.  “Only the once.  Then I happened to meet this duke that kept me too busy to worry about what mischief my brother was about.”  Belle came around the bed to stand before him, her fingers twisting into knots.  “I'll understand if you don't want to marry me anymore.”

       Robert stared down at her with those devil dark eyes, searching her face.  He envisioned her standing on the gallows with her brother and the pain it brought him nearly brought him to his knees.  He gathered her to him and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

       “Does this mean you forgive me?” she asked hesitantly, twining her fingers in his hair.  “You still love me even though I'm not like all the other ladies of the _ton_?”

       “I love you _because_ you're not like all the other ladies.  And yes, luv, you're not going to get out of your promise quite so easily.”  He could hear her bath being readied in the next room, knowing he wouldn't have much more time with her this morning. 

       “Robbie, I don't want out of my promise.  I've always _wanted_ to marry you.  If I had known you'd be so open to my being different, I would have said yes the night you came to me at the townhouse before you left for Sheffield.  I didn't want to let you go that night, and when you left . . .”

       “I know, Belle, because I felt it too.”

       Robert kissed her, a deep searing kiss that left her breathless.  “Go, sweetheart, and take your bath,” he said, reluctant to release her.

       “I'd rather stay here with you,” she whispered against his neck.

       “I know, luv.  But we have plenty of time to enjoy each other.  Mother will have both our hides if we're late for the ceremony, because she'll know exactly what we've been doing.”  He grinned at the thought.

       “I most certainly will, Robert Edward.  Now take yourself off to breakfast before I find a switch,” the dowager warned from the doorway, having come upstairs to check on her future daughter in law.  Robert gave Belle a swift kiss and strolled out the door, whistling a merry tune as he made his way to the stairs.  “And stop that infernal noise.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       Belle leaned back in the tub and closed her eyes against the pounding behind them.  Abigail had sent up one of her headache powders to help ease it, but Belle didn't believe this one would go away quite so easily. It was the lingering effects of helping August, she was sure.  Nora added another steaming bucket of water to the tub and sprinkled more lavender bath salts into the water.  It was a shame she couldn't use her gift to take away her own pain, but it didn't work like that.  

       “Belle?  Are you in here?”  Emma called hesitantly from the doorway.

       “In the tub, Emma,” Belle answered from behind the privacy screen.  “Come around, cousin.”

       Emma poked her head around the screen and smiled.  “Mother is beside herself, Belle.”

       “Really?  And how is that any different from yesterday or the day before?  How can you even tell?” she asked sarcastically.  “Regina thrives on her drama.”

       “Well,” Emma began, clasping her hands together in her excitement.  “She made sure to spread her version of the story all through the castle.  Actually, I can't remember ever seeing her so happy.  But it didn't last long.”

       “What have you done, Emma?” Belle asked in alarm, sloshing water over the side of the tub as she stood up, wrapping a towel around herself and stepping out.

       “When Lady Arnold asked me if I'd heard the gossip, I told her she was making a big deal out of nothing.  I told her that I had heard there was a long standing betrothal contract made between Lord Thomas Whitmore and the duke's father even before you were born.” Emma said gleefully.  “And that you didn't want to marry His Grace, had in fact refused him several times. I also told her that you must not have been able to resist his charms a moment longer and finally agreed to marry him.  The tale spreading about the castle now has cast you both in a rather romantic light.”

       Belle's mouth dropped open in surprise.  “Emma, you are bloody brilliant!” she said, hugging her cousin and getting her all wet.

       Emma wiped the water droplets from her face and smiled.  “I knew you would be pleased.  I know I am.  This way my mother was thwarted and I was able to help you and His Grace.  I just wish I could stay for the wedding this afternoon.”  Her shoulders slumped dejectedly at the thought of having to return to London with Regina.  The balls and parties would begin again immediately, the dress fittings and afternoon calls.  What she wouldn’t do to get away from it all.

       “Why can't you?” Belle asked, slipping into her dressing robe. 

       “His Grace ordered everyone out, said the party was over.”  She lowered her voice.  “He was quite overset by something that happened in his study from what I hear.”

       “Oh, that.”

       Emma didn't press for details.  One more thing to endear the girl to Belle.  “I could always have the dowager invite you to stay longer.  Do you think your mother would allow it?”

       “She's too angry that her plans to find a match for me have fallen through. She's ready to get back to the London season to try again,” Emma said flatly, her emerald eyes closing as she prayed for the strength to endure it all.  And now that Belle would be marrying, she wouldn’t have her new friend to confide in any longer. 

       “Emma, if you ever need me, I'm here for you.  Don't hesitate,” Belle said softly, pulling Emma into a comforting hug.  “Besides, there's always next season.  Who's to say you won't find that one gentleman to rush to your rescue and sweep you off your feet?”

       Emma's thoughts immediately went to Jefferson and a blush rose up to stain her cheeks.  Last night, he'd been her hero, saving her from the advances of Lord Wendell.  He'd comforted her and nearly kissed her.  It had been… wonderful.

       Belle could feel Emma's emotions roll over her and she stifled a gasp, remembering that Emma didn't know of her gift.  “No one caught your fancy this weekend at the party?”

       Emma toyed with a perfume bottle on Belle's dressing table.  “No.  No one,” she said evasively.  She couldn't bring herself to admit that she was attracted to that brute.  He wasn't right for her, she knew.  It would end badly.  Better to deny her attraction to him and move on to finding someone suitable for her.  Someone who didn't invoke such powerful emotions in her.  Someone safe.

       “Not even Jefferson Madden?” Belle asked, watching her cousin closely.  Emma blanched.  “He's quite handsome, don't you think?”

       “He's a brutish snob,” Emma said vehemently.  “Definitely not husband material.  I c-couldn't consider him.”

       “Jefferson has his faults, but he's not so bad.  You could do a lot worse.  Maybe he just needs the right woman to bring out the best in him,” Belle teased, having heard the slight waver in her cousin’s voice.  Emma didn't answer.  “You're sure?”

       “Yes, quite.”

       Belle smiled knowingly as Emma tried to change the subject.  “Will you and His Grace be returning to London soon?”

       “When did Jefferson start calling you 'rabbit'?” Belle asked, evading the question with one of her own.

       Emma blushed again.  “Oh, um, I don't know.  Irritating man.  If he's not calling me little girl, it's rabbit,” she grumped.

       “I think it's cute.”

       “Belle, you're in love,” Emma said condescendingly.  “You think everything's cute.  But you can forget about anything happening between Jefferson and myself,” she insisted. 

       “Hmm,” was all Belle said on the subject, letting it drop.

       A footman knocked on the open doorway, drawing their attention.  “Your Grace?”

       Belle looked about the room for Robert.  Emma giggled.  “No, Cousin, he's talking to you.”

       “Oh,” she said, frowning thoughtfully.  She wasn’t at all certain she liked having a title tacked onto her name.  “Yes?”

       “A gift for you from His Grace,” the footman said and placed the box on the bed, bowing and turning to leave.

       Belle didn't move to open it, pulling the brush through her hair in a steady motion.  Emma's curiosity was getting the better of her, however.  “Aren't you going to open it?”

       “Why?  I know what's in it.”

       “You do not.”

       “Course I do.  The box is too big to be chocolates, so it's no doubt a dress,” she said, handing Nora the hairbrush to finish her coiffure.  “Go on, Emma.  You can open it if you like.”

       Emma's squeal of delight confirmed Belle's suspicions.  “Dress?”

       Emma lifted the dress from the box and held it up for Belle to see.  The most beautiful ivory satin she'd ever seen had been fashioned into a wedding dress for her.  When had he done this? Belle wondered.  How had he been so sure she would accept his proposal?  This lovely creation had to have taken at least a week with more than one seamstress working on it.  Of course, it was the latest fashion with an empire waist and long, fitted sleeves that flared at the wrists, the bodice and sleeves white satin, overlaid in gold lace.

       “It's incredible,” Emma breathed dreamily.

       “Emma!  There you are,” Regina snapped from the doorway.  “You're supposed to be packing.”

       Belle raised her brows at Regina's scolding.  She really needed to help Emma free herself from that woman.  “Aunt Regina, Emma merely came up to say goodbye.”

       “She should've come to say good riddance.”

       “Mother!”

       Belle sighed wearily.  “It's alright, Emma.  You know Regina has never liked having me around.”  She turned to her aunt and squared her shoulders.  “Aunt, I wish to thank you for your hospitality while I have been in England.  While we haven't necessarily gotten along well, you still opened your home to us and showed us every courtesy.  For that I will always be grateful,” Belle said sincerely.  No reason to call her a harpy and rail at her for what she was doing to her poor cousin.  In a matter of hours, she was going to be a duchess.  She may as well start acting like one.

       “Yes, well, now that you've slept your way into a very lucrative title, you won't be needing your family anymore,” Regina sneered.

       “Mother!”  Emma hissed.  She turned to Belle.  “Belle, I'm so sorry.”

       Belle wrapped her arm about Emma's shoulders and hugged her warmly.  “Think nothing of it, Emma.  She's just jealous.”  Belle dropped her voice to a whisper so only Emma could hear.  “Write to me soon.  And remember what I told you earlier.  If you need me for any reason, don't hesitate to come to me.”

       Emma nodded and breezed past her mother, casting her a withering look.  Regina followed, leaving Belle alone to finish getting ready for her wedding.  Belle feared for her cousin, having to bear Regina's machinations day after day.  She knew it would either strengthen her or break her.  She really hoped it would be the former rather than the latter.  Belle didn't want to see her broken and bent under her mother's oppressive thumb. 

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

       The ceremony took all of twenty minutes.  They were married.  Finally, Robert thought, pressing a glass of champagne into Belle's hand.  They'd been married in the center of Abigail's rose garden, the scent of a thousand roses permeating the air.  Abigail kissed them both and strolled off toward the castle with the reverend to thank him and see him off, leaving Jefferson alone with the newly married couple.

       Jefferson raised his glass in toast.  “My sincerest condolences, old boy.  Leg shackled in the state of horrible matrimony,” he said teasingly.  Belle poked him in the ribs.  “However, if you did have to sacrifice your bachelorhood, I am glad you chose the fair Belle and her sharp wit as opposed to one of the milksop maids trotted out this season.”

       “Why thank you for that,” Belle said with a laugh.

       Robert pulled Belle close and wrapped his arm about her waist, steering her toward the castle.  “I never thought it would happen, Jeff.  But don't despair, my friend.   It'll happen to you soon enough.”

       “Gad no!  Bite your tongue,” Jefferson said in mock horror.  “Never will I find myself so lovesick over a lass that I willingly trot down the aisle.”

       “And I have a feeling it's going to happen sooner than you expect,” Belle said teasingly.

       “Oh, really now?  Do you happen to know of a certain marriage-minded female that's set her cap for me?” he asked with a waggle of his perfectly arched brows.

       “None come to mind.”

       “Good.  Because she can set it for someone else,” he said thoughtfully, hoping Emma hadn't been filling Belle's head with her nonsense.  What had made him even think of her to begin with?  She was much too young for him, only eighteen.  In his thirty five years he'd never met anyone so infuriating as that little girl, with her oh so kissable lips and tear bright eyes.  He shook his head to clear it.  Belle was smirking.  No, no, no.  It was not even to be considered.

       Abigail joined them in the parlor for the refreshments she'd had set out for them.  “Robert, you really must decide what you're going to do with our guest in the cellar.  Rivers says he's awake and quite undone by his present circumstances.”

       “Are we really to have nothing but cold fare this evening?” Jefferson complained, stuffing cold roast beef into his mouth. 

       “What _are_ you going to do about him?” Belle asked, ignoring Jefferson.

       “He's family now.  It's not like I can turn him over to the magistrate, now can I?” Robert mused, spooning the cold meat onto a slice of fresh baked bread and taking a bite.

       Belle was chewing her thumb nail to shreds, trying to come up with a solution.  “What if we just keep him locked up here as we discussed earlier?”

       “I suppose,” Robert agreed, snatching the last piece of bread from Jefferson's plate.

       “Hey!  I was going to eat that,” the earl protested.

       “Yeah, along with everything else on the damn table.”

       “Gentlemen,” Abigail warned.  “I'm off to bed.  I'll have Rivers prepare a tray for Mr. Whitmore, Belle.”  The dowager embraced her new daughter in law warmly.  “You made a beautiful bride, dear.  I’m proud to have you join this family.  You are going to make a splendid duchess.”  She nodded to the men.  “Robert, Jefferson.”  And with that she left the parlor.

       “I want to see him, Robbie,” Belle said quietly after the dowager had retired.  “I know it's not a good idea, but I need him to know how sorry I am for outing him.”  She raised a hand as he started to protest.  “He's my brother.  I need to see him.”

       “Now?” Robert asked, pulling her into his arms.  “It's our wedding night.  Can't we put this off until the morning at least?”

       She turned beseeching cerulean eyes on him.  “Please.”

       “Fine.”  He could see now that he would be hard pressed now and in future to deny her anything.  “But this had better not take long,” he said, giving her a meaningful stare.

       Belle blushed and placed her hand in his.  “I promise.”

       Jefferson pushed his empty plate aside and rose to follow.

       “Just where do you think you're going?” Robert asked as Jefferson followed them into the hall.

       “Don't think I'm going to miss this evening's entertainment, do you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, bc I guarantee the next one will have its fair share of angst. Nothing that true love cannot overcome, but it’s there nonetheless lol. Just a bit of warning. Next chapter: Belle’s worst fears are confirmed and Robbie has to pay the price. And with that cryptic remark I shall leave you, dearies!!! I know I’m evil.


	11. Chapter 11

*CHAPTER ELEVEN*

 

        Belle stared at her surroundings, aghast with horror.  “Robert, you said this was a cellar, not a bloody dungeon.”

        “Technically, it _is_ a cellar because that's what it is used for.  It hasn't been used as a dungeon in two centuries,” Robert said, leading her forward along the corridor. “There's only one or two cells left that haven't been converted.”

        “And one of those cells is where I had the bastard tossed this morning on his arse,” Jefferson fumed.  “Should've strung him up in the oak by the lake.”

        Robert took the key ring off the wall opposite the two remaining cells and scowled at his friend.  “We are not hanging Belle's brother.  We are going to resolve this in as dignified a manner as possible.”  He unlocked the cell door and opened it to allow Belle to enter.

        Belle set the tray she carried on the table, her eyes fighting to adjust in the dim light.  “Candle please,” she said, holding her hand out to Jefferson.  She placed it on the table next to the tray and lit it.  The cell really wasn't all that bad.  At least it was clean.  There was a cot against the wall with a clean mattress, a lone chair and the table.   No window and a locked door, but at least it was better than any accommodations he would've received at Newgate prison.

        “Auggie?” she asked softly, touching his shoulder.  He'd fallen asleep again facing the wall.  He started at her light touch.

        “Belle?”

        She seated herself in the chair and gazed at her brother sadly.  “Are you alright?”

        August's lip curved up in a sneer.  “Lovely dress, m'dear.  Am I to assume the happy event has taken place?”

        “Yes, Auggie.  Robert and I were married this afternoon.  But that's not why I'm here.  I've come to discuss our current dilemma.”

        “One of your own making,” he hissed accusingly as he rolled onto his back and folded his hands behind his head.

        Belle had the decency to look guilty.  “I'm sorry I outed you as the highwayman. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am about that.  I tried to make up for it a little.”

        “Thanks for that, at least,” he drawled dryly as he smoothed a hand over his bruised ribs.

        “I didn't want you to wake up in pain, is all.  Can't you find it in your heart to forgive me?” she asked hopefully.  “It's not so bad.  You've avoided prison.”

        “What are you on about, Belle?  Last I checked, I'm locked in a blasted dungeon!” he replied heatedly.

        “But it's just for a bit,” she rushed to explain.  She loved her brother and it distressed her to see him in such a predicament, despite the fact that it was one of his own making.  “Robert sent his man to Portland nearly three weeks ago to investigate our parent’s death.  If he can prove your innocence, you will be released and sent home.  Home, Auggie.  You can pick up your life and be a free man.”

        “And you'll be stuck here in England.  How lovely for you.”  August sat up on the cot, swinging his feet to the floor.  “Married to your lovely duke and enjoying your new life.  And what happens to your dear brother, you ask?  I get to linger in a blasted dungeon for a month.”

        Belle ducked her head sheepishly, guilt rising to choke her that she had disappointed him.  But he’d brought it on himself and nothing she’d said to him had had any impact on his choices.  How could she be sorry for finding love with Robert, after all?  She was sorry that she’d hurt her brother, but she wouldn’t trade her relationship with Robert for anything.  “Auggie, I'm sorry, really.  We can't let you out, however.  Robert doesn't want you to start stealing again and actually get caught by the authorities.  It'll just be safer if you stay here with us,” she said, trying to reason with him.  She laid her hand over his and recoiled.  “What the hell is that?”

        “What?”

        “W-When I touched you just now…” she shivered, a wave of cold fear skipping down her spine.

        A malicious grin curved his lips.  “It's power, Belle.  Remember that I share your gift.”

        “August, my gift has _never_ felt like that.  It's dark and ominous,” she whispered, frightened of him for the first time in her life.  Belle rose from the chair and took a cautious step towards the door.  “There's something evil in you.”

        Robert had heard enough, stepping through the cell door and positioning himself between the feuding siblings.  “That's enough, Belle.  You've apologized and explained your plan to him.  It's time to go.”

        August smiled and thrust out his hand as a goodwill gesture.  “Don't mind us, Your Grace.  Just a little family squabble.  I'm willing to stay and behave myself for the duration if it means I get to go home in the end.  Shake on it?  You know, seal the deal and all that?”

        Belle's head was beginning to spin.  Something was off about August.  He was never this nice when backed into a corner.  And then she felt it, like a cloud of dark fog swirling about her, threatening to choke her.  “No, Robbie, don't touch him!” she screamed, but it was too late.  August's eyes near glowed with purpose as he held Robert's hand in an iron grip.

        August laughed gleefully.  “Seems to me, m'dear, neither one of us is going to enjoy the coming month.”

        Robert stood frozen in place, a blank stare upon his handsome face, his eyes devoid of all emotion.  Belle pulled him back towards the door and rounded on her brother.  “What have you done, August?”

        “Quite simple.  While you've been fooling around with your duke, I've been keeping myself busy…busy practicing using my own gift.  That night in the carriage when you blasted me with the full impact of your power, remember?  Well, I realized I would need a better understanding of my own if I was to protect myself should the need arise.  Unfortunately, that time is now,” he said with smug satisfaction. 

        “Fine.  You've somehow come into full control of your gift.  What did you do to my husband!?”  Belle shrieked, losing what little control she’d maintained during the interview.  She was beginning to feel the panic, so tightly wound inside her, fighting to loose itself.

        “I took his love for you, his lust, his desire, even his anger and shielded it.  His emotions are so well cocooned from you he's unable to feel anything for you.  They are so well hidden that even should you reach into him with all your power you won't be able to free them.  And so they shall stay as long as I'm held prisoner,” he boasted, lying back on the cot and resting his head on his arms.  “So run along, sister dear.  I'm sure you have a lot to think about.  Hell, not even Zera herself could free him, were she still alive,” he said, his lips curling back into a sneer as he released a sinister laugh that made the fine hairs on her nape rise in alarm.

        Belle cast her brother a scathing glare and grabbed Robert's hand in hers, pulling him into the corridor and locking the cell door behind them.  “Jefferson, help me get Robbie upstairs.”

        August's smiling face appeared in the bars on the door.  “Enjoy your wedding night, Belle.  Hope it's everything you've ever dreamed of, luv.”  His maniacal laughter followed the three of them up the corridor and into the great hall.

        _God's blood!  Mother should've drowned him in the river when he popped his squalling head from her womb._

X*X*X*X*X

 

        Jefferson sat Robert on the bed in the duke’s bedchamber and turned fierce grey eyes on Belle.  “I want to know what the fuck is going on, Belle.  _Now_!  What's happened to Robbie?  It's like his soul has been sucked out of him.”

        “It's complicated,” she said uneasily.

        “Try your very best to explain it to me,” he hissed, pouring himself a drink then changing his mind and handing it to Robert instead. 

        Robert tossed the drink back and took a deep breath, quirking a brow at Jefferson's irritation.  “What's going on?” he asked, puzzled at the upheaval taking place between his wife and his friend.

        “Robbie?” Belle asked, slowly approaching him as she wrung her hands in dismay.  “Are you alright?  How are you feeling?”

        “Tired.”  That's it? Belle thought.  One word answers from Mr. Let-me-chew-it-to-death?

        “Tired?  What else?” Jefferson asked.  “I mean, come on, it _is_ your wedding night.”

        Robert's brow furrowed in a frown, his dark eyes puzzled as his gaze swung back and forth between the two.  “Yeah, just tired.”

        “I'm going to _kill_ August.  I can't believe he did this to us.  The bastard,” Belle fumed, her voice rising.  She paced back and forth trying to figure out what she should do.

        “What did he do?” Jefferson asked, growing more and more concerned over Belle's rising panic and Robert's lack thereof.

        “August's an empath,” she murmured quietly, chewing her thumb nail to shreds.  It wasn’t a habit she indulged in often and was a sure tell of her severe upset.

        “A what?”

        “An empath.”  Belle put her hands on either side of Jefferson's face, needing the contact to make sure her panic hadn't made her power go askew.  “ _He can control emotions.  His own and those of others.”_

“Bloody hell, Belle!  What the hell was that?” he asked, his wide grey eyes staring at her as if he didn’t know her.

        Belle squashed her panic and sent a wave of pure calm towards Jefferson and he stopped trying to back away from her. “That, my dear, was the explanation you asked for.  Gypsy heritage can be trifling at times.  But we have bigger problems if you hadn't noticed.”

        “What did August do to him?”

        “Well, he hasn't 'sucked out his soul', if that's what has your back up.  He can't do that.  What he's done is just as bad, if not worse.  Something's wrong with August.  His empathic power is dark now--”

        “And yours?”

        “Mine has never been used to hurt _anyone_ , Jefferson.  Perhaps that's why August's is so dark now…because he wanted to hurt me.  He feels like I've betrayed him and he's somehow justified,” she mused.  She was losing her focus, trying to wrap her head around everything at once. 

        “For the last time, Belle.  What did he do to Robbie?” the earl demanded, planting his hands on his shoulders and giving her a little shake.

        Belle shook her head to clear it as Robert rose from the bed and poured himself another drink.  He'd barely spared a glance in her direction, which was so unlike him.  “August has taken Robbie's most powerful emotions and locked them away from me.  Not even Robbie can access them.”

        “Have you tried?”

        “I'm afraid to.  Auggie said I wouldn't be able to, that I wasn't strong enough.”

        “Well, you have to do _something._   We can't just leave him like this.  Abby is going to have a stroke.  She's not a young woman, y'know.  I don't know what this will do to her,” he said worriedly.  Jefferson was closer to Abigail Gold than he was to his own mother.  He didn't want to see her health take a downward turn because of this.  “Belle, please.  If you think you can help him, you have to try.”

        “Really, Jefferson?  Do you think I enjoy seeing him like this?  I love him!”

Belle insisted, a tear escaping her eye to roll down her cheek.  She went to Robert and pulled him over to the bed, pushing him down to sit upon it.  “Robbie,” she said softly.  “I need you to help me.”

        “With what?” he asked, the scotch he'd been drinking assailing her nose, bringing back more pleasant memories. 

        Belle bit her lip and tried to focus on him.  “Sweetheart, think about last night, for me.  I want you to focus on what we did in this very room last night and tell me what you feel,” she said, opening her gift up fully, searching for anything, everything.  Nothing.  It was like he wasn't even in the same room with her.  “Are you even trying?”

        “Yes.  I remember everything,” he said, his eyes dull and lackluster.  “Shouldn't that have been something special?”

        Belle was crying in earnest now.  “Robbie, kiss me.”

        “Why?”

        “Holy hell!” Jefferson cursed.  “The same man who's been chasing you all over London, not to mention his behavior over this past weekend, has to ask why?” he hissed furiously, turning to leave.

        “Where the hell are you going?”

        “To kill the bastard that did this!”

        “No, Jefferson!” Belle screamed, running after him and pulling him back into the room.  “There's no telling what will happen to Robert if you kill my brother.  His terms were fairly clear.  Release, not murder.  If you kill him, Robert could very well remain like this forever…not to mention I really don’t want to see you swinging from a gallow’s tree for murder.”  If there was some way to save her brother from the evil that permeated his soul, she had to try.  But first she had to save her husband.  “And do you really want to be responsible for his death?”

        “Very much so at the moment,” he hissed, raking an aggrieved hand through his mussed hair.

        Belle returned to Robert's side and tried again.  “Robbie, kiss me.”

        Robert shrugged his shoulders and cupped her face in his hands, brushing his lips to hers.  Belle wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her, deepening the kiss, drawing his tongue into her mouth to tease with her own.  And still she couldn't feel him…no onslaught of raw desire, no overwhelming heat coiling and burgeoning between them…nothing.  His passion had been stolen from her.  She reached out to him until she was dizzy with the sheer force of her will.  Nothing.  Robert set her away from him gently and looked down at her.  Nothing.

        Belle stepped away from him, her face awash with horror.  She'd lost him because of August's vindictiveness.  And then all went black as she fainted into Jefferson's arms, her mind forcing her to rest and heal from the power she'd exerted.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

The fire was the only source of light in the massive room when Belle awoke some time later.  Robert was lying on his stomach, turned away from her, the sheets riding low on his hips. What was she going to do about him?  How was she going to help him?  A tear slid down her cheek as she reached out and ran her hand down the long length of his back, reveling in the feel of her palm on his bare skin.  She reached out to him with her gift and recoiled, her head throbbing painfully.  _Well, just shit!_   she cursed silently.  She hadn't realized how much emotion she'd been pulling from him of late.  It's like she was fueled by his love, his passion and now it was gone.

        _It's within you, Belle._   Belle started, sitting up in the big bed and searching the shadows.  She could almost hear her mother's sweet voice.  Shaking herself mentally, she tried to focus on the memory through the haze of pain in her head.

        She had been nine years old and August had been teasing her, she remembered, pulling at the memory and gathering it close until she could see it in detail.

        _Irina gathered her close and stroked Belle's hair.  “It's within you, Belle.”_

_“But I don't want it, Mama.  August said my gift is puny and I shouldn't even have it.  He said I will never be as strong as he is,” she'd complained._

_Irina cupped Belle's face in her hands, her gaze intense.  “Listen to me, my angel, very carefully.  August takes his gift for granted.  My brother was the same.  He let it consume him until it made him dark and evil.  That is why we do not speak of him.  He was banished because he misused his gift and people were hurt.”_

_“Why, Mama? Why would he want to hurt someone?”_

_“Because he let the darkness in, Belle.  Your gift is special.  It makes you special, but only if you use it for good.  You mustn't ever use it for evil.  Never to hurt someone.  Do you understand?”_

_“Yes, Mama.”_

_“I fear for your brother, Belle.  I fear one day he may be desperate enough to use it for harm.  Promise me.  Promise me you will protect him, Belle.  Use your spark.”_

_“My spark?”_

_“That is what your grandmother always called my gift.  She said if I harnessed my 'spark' and focused it with all my strength that I could do anything.  It is within you, Belle.”_

_“What if I don't want it within me, Mama?”_

_“You don't have a choice, my angel.  I didn't have a choice either when I wanted my mother to rid me of it.  Someday you will be thankful for it.  That day when you meet the man that will hold your heart.  His love will only make you stronger.  His love will fuel you until you won't be able to live without the other.”_

_“How do you know, Mama?”_

_“Because it happened to me when I met your father.  Because it was prophesied by my mother.  And no one ever doubted Zera Romanovsky.”_

 

X*X*X*X*X

        “God's teeth!  That's it!”  Belle cried, throwing the bedcovers back and getting out of bed.  Where the hell were her clothes?  Robert must have just removed her wedding gown and threw the covers over her before he'd gone to sleep.  Some wedding night, she thought, cursing her brother all over again.  She stalked angrily to her room and threw open the wardrobe, grabbing the first dress she could get her hands on and pulling it over her head.

        Robert touched her shoulder as she was sliding her feet into a pair of slippers, startling her.  This would not do at all.  He'd never before been able to sneak up on her without her being besieged by his emotions.  She grabbed his forearm to steady herself, cringing at the coldness of his skin.

        “What are you doing in here?” he asked blandly only mildly curious.

        Belle smoothed his hair away from his eyes and kissed him tenderly.  “I'm going to fix this mess, Robbie.  I promise,” she vowed.  His hands gripped her arms and set her away from him.  “I love you,” she whispered, tears coursing down her face.

        “Belle, I--”

        “I know, luv.  I know,” she said, nearly choking on the lump in her throat.  “Go back to bed.”  She left him standing there, her heart breaking for him.  She couldn't give up.  He'd fought so hard to get her to love him, to marry him.  She couldn't give that up because August wanted to be an ass of the highest caliber.  She _would_ find a way to help her husband.

        And, she decided, she would need help.  Belle pulled her cloak about her shoulders and marched across the hall to Jefferson's room, not bothering to knock.  She shook his shoulder and he moaned sleepily.

        “Jefferson.  Jeff, wake up!” she said loudly, shaking him again.

        “What! I swear she didn't tell me she was married!” he shouted, rolling out of the other side of the bed.  He raked a hand through his hair, recognizing Belle. He grinned sheepishly.

        “Really?” she asked, arching an auburn brow and stifling a hysterical giggle.

        “Yes, well. . . what're you doing in here in the middle of the night?”

        “Come on.  I need your help,” she said, collecting a shirt from the dresser and tossing it to him.  “I think I may have an idea to help Robbie.”

        Jefferson pulled his shirt on and started on the buttons.  “I was thinking about that.  Why don't you just free your brother?  Then Robbie would be back to normal.”

        “Because I promised Robbie that I wouldn't.  When we made our bargain, it was clearly understood that August would remain here until Campbell returned from Portland.  Now that he's not himself, I can't go against his wishes.  I have to try it my way,” she said adamantly, tossing his jacket at him.  “Besides, there’s no guarantee August won’t go back on his word, not mired in darkness as he is.”

        “What, no waistcoat?” he deadpanned, teasing her as if she were used to invading his private quarters in the dead of night.

        “Jefferson!”

        Jefferson grinned and pulled his boots on.  “Alright, what're we doing?”

        “I need salt, lots of salt and some candles.”

        “I beg your pardon?”

        “Don't ask,” she said, making her way down the servant’s stairs to the kitchen corridor.  She found the pantry in the dim light of the oil lamp she carried and filled a small sack with salt.  All that was left were the candles that she found on a shelf.  “Alright, let's go.”

        “Where?”

        “To the lake.”

        “We're going swimming?”

        “No, idiot!” she admonished, rolling her eyes.

        Jefferson caught her upper arm in a firm grasp and pulled her to a halt at the kitchen door.  “I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what going to the lake has to do with helping Robbie.”

        “It's not so much the lake, but the eight hundred year old oak that sits at its edge.”

        “What?” he asked, gaping at her in confusion.

        Belle was getting exasperated having to explain every detail to the man.  “Just trust me.  I promise you'll understand.” She looked up at him dubiously. “Well, I'm hoping you understand, anyway.”

        Jefferson quirked one dark brow at her and she fought back a stab of pain in her chest, the affectation so reminding her of Robert.

        “Have you ever been to a séance?”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        “You do know that they still burn witches at the stake,” Jefferson drawled in a lazy voice as he helped Belle spread a blanket under the great oak tree.

        “They do not,” she protested, only half believing that statement.  “Besides, I'm not a witch.”

        “Uh-huh,” he murmured dubiously. 

        Belle set the candles at the four corners of the blanket and lit them, placing herself at the very center of the blanket and making herself as comfortable as possible.  “Jefferson, take the salt and form a circle around the blanket.”

        Jefferson looked at her skeptically, but did as he was told.  “Why'd we have to come all the way out here?  Couldn't we have done this in Robert's study?  Or the drawing room? Or any room that contained a full decanter of scotch?” he grumbled quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of anyone who might be up in the middle of the night and lurking about.  “I can see it now.  Did you hear about Lord Madden cavorting in the middle of the night with the duchess of Sheffield?  Robert will just love that one.”

        “Jefferson!  Just relax, alright?  The oak tree is sacred.  It will offer protection, just as the lake and its cleansing properties will offer me strength.”  Belle closed her eyes and let the tension drain from her.

        “Protection from what?” he asked, but she refused to answer.

        “And Jefferson?”

        “Yeah?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pocket to still their trembling.

        “No matter what happens, don't cross the salt line.”

        Belle concentrated on her breathing, deep breaths, forcing herself to a deep calm.  She pulled her gift into a ball, her head beginning to spin with the effort.  Slowly, she released it, imagining moving it outside her body.  She pictured her grandmother as she'd been before her death, calling to her.

        “Zera. I summon thee. Blood of my blood, come to me,” she said in a low voice.  She could feel Jefferson watching her, but she pushed him to the back of her mind, focusing on her quest.  “Zera Romanovsky, I summon thee.  Blood of my blood, come to me.”

        The candles flickered in the sudden breeze and she prayed they would stay lit, the flames seeming to grow brighter. Belle remained motionless, a shiver coursing through her as the breeze grew cooler.  And then she felt her, her grandmother, matriarch of the Romanovsky gypsy clan.

        “I seek your help,” Belle whispered, bowing her head as a show of respect.  She kept her eyes closed, listening with her heart.

        “What is it you wish to know, dear one?” the ethereal voice asked.

        “My brother has--”

        “Your brother has given in to the dark.  He has taken something precious from you and you seek the knowledge to get it back, yes?” The faintly glowing form of Belle’s grandmother wavered before her, a soothing comforting presence rather than something to be afraid of.

        “Yes,” Belle answered, a tear sliding down her cheek.  “I fear I am not strong enough to save him.”

        “You are trying too hard, my daughter,” Zera intoned, her voice whispering over Belle and infusing her with strength.  “It is within you to save your love.  Gather your strength to you and harness its power.”

        “I've tried.”

        “You are trying to return him to himself all at once.  This is a powerful shield your brother has used.  You must break through it slowly.  Chip away at the foundation and it will weaken until it crumbles to dust in your hands.”

        “One emotion at a time,” Belle said aloud.  Her eyes flew open and she gasped, the connection broken.  She whispered a silent prayer, thanking her grandmother for her help and rose from the blanket, gathering it and the candles together to return to the castle.

        Jefferson watched her warily, a bit in awe at this woman Robert had chosen to spend his life with.  There was no doubt that it wouldn't be dull.  “Well?”

        Belle's teeth were chattering from the cold.  She pulled her cloak about her more securely and smiled at Jefferson.  “I have my answer.  I think I may be able to do it, but it's going to take a bit of time.”

        “How much time?”

        “Maybe a week or two.”

        “Bloody hell!” he cursed, pacing away from her in his agitation.  “Belle, he has business to conduct.  How is he supposed to go about his duties in such a state?”

        “Cheer up, Jeff.  At least you get to watch the show,” she teased, excited that she now had the knowledge to bring Robert back to her.  “We’ll just have to reschedule his business dealings until we resolve this matter.  We’ve just been married.  I’m sure people will understand his absence.  Just promise me you won't interfere with my unorthodox approach.”

        “Really, Belle.  I thought you knew me better than that,” he said with a wry grin.  “If you can bring our Robbie back, I'll do more than interfere, I'll help.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

The sun was barely peeking through the curtains when Robert woke to find Belle splayed across his chest, her hair tickling his nose.  Her right hand was tangled in his hair, her left tucked under his back and her leg thrown over both of his.  There was no way he'd be able to get up without waking her.  He gazed down at her face, trying to see her clearly in the dim light.  She was so lovely, her lashes making half-moons on her cheeks.  Why couldn't he feel anything for her?  He'd married her, what he'd wanted for weeks, he knew.  And yet he felt nothing but indifference when he looked at her.  What the hell had Whitmore done to him?

        Belle moaned softly in her sleep and snuffled her face to his neck, pressing her lips below his ear.  “Robbie,” she whispered, her warm breath caressing his ear.

        Robert frowned, his brows drawing together, trying to rally his emotions.  He wanted to feel the need he knew had been there just yesterday. Nothing.  He felt dead inside, the same way he'd felt before she had come into his life.  He'd hoped never to feel that way again.  Belle shifted against him and kissed his neck where his pulse beat a steady rhythm.

        “Belle?” he asked quietly.

        “Hmm,” she murmured, kissing his jaw.

        “What're you doing?”

        “Kissing my husband.”  She gazed up at him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes and kissed the corner of his mouth.

        Robert untangled himself from her limbs and sat up on the side of the bed, raking his hand through his long hair.  Belle flopped back onto the pillows and sighed with frustration, reaching out with her gift, enveloping him with her love only to have it rebound on her.  She wanted to stamp her foot in irritation.  She'd even tried to get through to him as he'd slept.  The shield was just too strong.

        “Belle?” he asked, his voice flat.

        “What, luv?”

        “What's wrong with me?  Why can't I feel anything?  I feel dead inside.” The question was like a knife to her heart.

        “Because, my brother is being vindictive and took away your emotions, or rather blocked them,” she said softly, running her hand over his broad back, trying to soothe him.  “This is his way of hurting me, but I'm going to fix this.  I promise,” she vowed.

        “How?”

        “Don't you worry about that.  Just trust me.”  Belle moved off the bed to stand between his knees and wrapped her arms around his neck.  “Don't push me away,” she said, brushing the hair away from his eyes.  “Don't close yourself off from me, alright?”

        “I remember loving you, Belle,” he said, pressing his face into her throat.  “I remember everything. I just can't remember how it felt.”

        “You w-will, Robbie,” she whispered softly against his hair, her voice breaking.  “You will, I promise.  It's just going to take time.”

        Robert wrapped his arms around her slim waist and pulled her closer, letting her comfort him and trying his damnedest to offer it in return.  “I trust you, Belle.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

       

        The dowager duchess and Jefferson were waiting for them in the informal dining room when they arrived.  Abigail rose from her chair and hugged her son, her eyes critically taking in his appearance.  “My darling boy,” she sniffed.

        Belle cast a scathing glare at Jefferson.  “You told her?”

        Jefferson shrugged.  “You try keeping something from the old girl.  She was bound to find out sooner or later, anyway,” he said around a mouth full of scrambled eggs.

        “Of course he told me.  Belle you neglected to mention this aspect of your gift,” Abigail scolded.

        “Abby, I assure you that I would never use it for harm.  I don't know what's wrong with August or why he'd want to hurt us like this.”

        “Let him go.  I want my son back, just as I'm sure you want your husband back.  Let Mr. Whitmore go,” Abigail said in a low hiss.

        “No.”  Robert said, his tone brooking no objection.  “He's not going anywhere until I can personally put him on a ship bound for Massachusetts.  Whether he goes home to Portland or parts unknown is not our concern after that.”

        Abigail frowned into her tea, fighting back tears as she watched Robert sit there going through the motions of eating breakfast, his eyes devoid of any emotion.  What poor Belle must be going through, she thought sadly.

        Belle smiled brightly at Abigail and Jefferson and projected her thoughts directly into their minds.  _“Play along.”_

        Jefferson nearly choked on the bit of sausage he was chewing and grabbed for his orange juice, casting his wide blue eyes on her in shock.

        “Robbie, luv?” Belle asked softly, casting him a doe eyed expression that otherwise would have had him on full alert.

        “Hmm?” he mumbled, pushing his plate aside.  At least he hadn't lost his appetite.

        “I was thinking about how much I enjoyed this past weekend,” Belle began, her eyes alight with mischief.  She ignored the raised brows from Abigail and Jefferson and tried to hide a grin.  “Why don't we go to London for the remainder of the season?  I'd like to host a ball at the townhouse.”  Which was an outright lie, considering how much she abhorred the balls and parties she’d been forced to attend.

        “No,” Robert said, flatly refusing.

        “B -Belle, that is a splendid idea,” Abigail chimed in, unsure of where she was going with this, but figuring it couldn't hurt to lend a hand.

        “No.” Robert's brows drew together in a deep frown.

        Belle reached out and touched the shield with her gift, feeling it waver slightly beneath her tentative touch.  Her eyes flared, her mind working quickly.  “We would only invite about a hundred guests or so.  What do you think, Abby?”

        “Absolutely not,” Robert replied, his voice rising.

        The shield wavered and shifted, and Belle's smile widened.

        “Oh yes, Belle.  That's an acceptable number.  And of course, we'll have to order you a new wardrobe befitting your new station.  It will be the perfect opportunity to introduce the two of you to society as a married couple,” Abigail gushed excitedly, finally seeing what Belle was doing.  Robert hated the London season and the thought of spending his hard-earned money on so much frivolity had him seeing red.

        “No ball,” Robert said vehemently, rising to his feet and tossing his napkin on the table.  “No guests.” His voice was rising.  “No shopping!” he yelled.

        And the shield around his anger crumbled to dust.  Belle sat back with a satisfied smile and rubbed her aching temples.  Robert stormed from the dining room and stalked down the hall to his study, slamming the door behind him.

        “Belle, that was bloody brilliant,” Jefferson said, finishing his juice.

        “One down, three to go,” she said, resting her aching head against the back of the chair.  “Too bad it's going to take a ball to break through to the others.”

        “You were serious?” Abigail asked in alarm.  Belle nodded.  “But you saw how angry he was.  He hates balls and parties with a passion.  Oh. I see.”

        “I thought his anger would be the easiest to reach, but it still took a lot out of me.  Abby, Jefferson, I'm not going to be able to do this without your help.  Can I depend on you both?” Belle asked wearily, rubbing absently at her temples.

        Jefferson and Abigail nodded, confident in her abilities after what they'd just witnessed.  “Well, Belle,” Jefferson drawled lazily.  “I hope you know what you're doing.  Robert's anger without his love to temper it isn't going to be an easy thing to live with, and planning a ball is going to really bring it out of him.”

        “Jefferson, no man likes to see his wife spend his money,” Abigail said, sipping her tea.

        Jefferson snorted.  “Since when is an inheritance hard-earned?”

        “Someone had to earn it,” Abigail said with a smirk.  “And you know Robbie’s gift with expanding his fortune. He doesn’t have a lazy bone in his body.”  Changing the subject, Abigail rose from the table.  “Now if you will both excuse me, I will see to the preparations for our trip to London.”

        Belle groaned.  She didn't want to go back to London.  She loathed the town with all its unsavory aspects.  She wanted to stay here and enjoy her husband, but thanks to her meddling brother she couldn't have any peace.  Belle rose from the table and left in search of one of Abigail's headache powders.  She paused next to Jefferson on her way out.

        “Just think, Jeff.  While we're in London you'll have the opportunity to see Emma.”  And with that she left him there with his mouth gaping open in horror.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, my darlings, did you enjoy it? Wait! Stop! Put away the torches and pitchforks. Next chapter things get much MUCH better. I promise. You only have to wait a week for the next update. Seriously!! I know I’m just horrible lol. Here’s wishing you all a very Happy Christmas. I pray you are all safe and happy and blessed during the holiday season. See you next time (o: Thank you all for sticking with me during the writing process and lending your support…xoxoxox.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *This chapter contains smut so here's your warning*

 

       Belle stood at the window in her bedroom watching it rain, tears flowing freely down her face.  They'd been in London for a week now and she hadn't been able to make any progress with Robert.  He was still cold and unfeeling.  The only emotion he displayed was anger.  _And boy, is he angry_ , she thought miserably.  He screamed.  He yelled. He growled, even…and all of it was directed at her.  She spent his money and he yelled.  She asked his opinion of her new clothes, he shouted.  She curled up next to him at night in their big bed and he growled for her to go to sleep.  Belle really didn't know how much more she'd be able to endure, not knowing how much longer it would be before his anger turned into hate.  Then he would be lost to her.

        Belle wanted her Robbie back and she was beginning to despair of it ever happening.  She thought that maybe with August stuck in a cell at Sheffield, the shield would've weakened.  No such luck.  August was still stronger than her, damn him.  She was just thankful that August's gift required touch whereas she could use hers freely.  She'd warned all the servants at Sheffield that they were not to come in contact with her brother.  She didn't want August to gain control over one of them and convince them to free him. 

        Tonight was the ball Abigail had put so much effort into.  The ballroom was brimming with flowers and music and food, just waiting for her to join in the festivities.  Instead, she was feeling sorry for herself upstairs, watching it rain.  Belle dried her tears and splashed water on her face, trying to revive herself.  She felt horrible.  She had been beating against the shield around Robert's emotions for so long, she couldn't seem to shake her headache.  And now she had to take herself downstairs into the melee.

        Belle squared her shoulders and smoothed her hands over her royal blue silk ball gown.  She would double her efforts to bring out something other than anger in her husband this evening, hoping it wasn’t too late.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        “Who's she dancing with now?” Jefferson asked as Belle twirled by in the arms of her fifth dance partner.  “You know it wouldn't kill you to dance with your wife.”

        Robert ground his teeth together so hard, he was sure Jefferson could hear it.  He didn't say a word, the vein in his temple throbbing.  She was making a complete cake of herself, dancing with every man who asked.  And she was bloody well flirting.  Flirting!  She was his and she was letting every man here have a turn with her. 

        Belle stumbled and looked directly into his seething devil dark eyes, a slow smile spreading on her lips.  She could feel him!  _God's bones, I can feel him.  Uh-oh._   Her gift had been trained on him from the moment she'd entered the ballroom, waiting for him to feel _something_ , anything.  She wasn't expecting jealousy.  _Jealousy is good, though.  It's something besides all the blasted anger he's been feeling for the past week._   She could feel her own feelings coming to the fore, however.  Panic!

        Robert handed his empty glass of scotch to Jefferson.  “Who invited Malcolm Wendell?”

        “The devil you say!” Jefferson scoffed, searching the ballroom for the lecher.

        “He's dancing with Lady Emma,” Robert said with quiet menace.

        “The hell he is,” Jefferson stated and strode off to cut in on him.

        Abigail placed a warning hand on Robert's arm, having seen the murderous looks he was casting at Belle.  “Whatever it is you're planning, don't, Robert.  In your present state of mind, you could hurt her.”

        Robert narrowed his eyes on his mother.  “I would _never_ hurt her.” He turned his gaze back to his dancing wife and scowled.  Jefferson was dancing with Emma and seemed to be having a heated argument while Lord Wendell had claimed Belle's next dance.

        Abigail winced as Robert shook off her hand and marched out onto the dance floor, grabbing Wendell by the lapels of his jacket.  “You ever let your hand drift that far south again, and I'll be happy to remove it for you.  Permanently!” Robert roared, not caring one wit if anyone heard the exchange.  He then promptly grabbed Belle's hand and stalked off the floor, dragging her along behind him, uncaring of the fodder he was providing for the gossip mill.

        “Robert!” Belle hissed furiously, digging in her heels.  “Robert, we have a house full of guests and you're acting like a beast.”

        He didn't even turn to look at her, pulling her from the ballroom and down the hall to the study.  “A house full of guests that I didn't want here.  I remember quite clearly telling you no.  _You_ didn't listen,” he retorted, slamming the door shut and turning the key in the lock.  He stalked ever nearer, his smile feral as he murmured, “And I do believe you happen to like my beastly nature.  You’ve done your best to provoke the beast within me, haven’t you, dearie?”

        Belle stopped abruptly when she heard that softly uttered declaration, a tingle of fear beginning to creep up her spine to raise the fine hair on her nape.  She reached out with her gift and gasped.  _God's blood!_ His jealousy was eating him alive and awakening something more primal in him. Lust.  Belle ran around the chairs set in front of the hearth, trying to calm the heat that assailed her.  Heat he directed at her.  He wanted her!  Joy leapt in her heart.  The shield was cracking.  If he was lusting for her, then his desire had been unleashed as well.  She wanted to clap her hands with glee.  She'd done it!  His love was sure to follow soon.  _Take that, Auggie!_

        _Uh-oh._   He wasn't in control of it, the intensity of his feelings too much, too fast.  Robert stalked toward her, loosening his cravat and tossing it onto a chair.  Belle watched him come closer, his eyes glowing with his need for her.  She sprinted around the chair and stopped behind the sofa, putting it between them.

        Belle held her hands out to ward him off as he began unbuttoning his waistcoat.  “Robert, stop.”

        “No,” he said, letting his waistcoat drop to the floor.  “I've had to endure two hours of hell watching _my wife_ dance with every dandy in London… _flirt_ with my peers.  Now it's my turn.”

        Belle watched him pull his boots off, her breathing coming in rapid gasps now.  God, how she wanted him.  The primitive desire coursing through him bounced off her, increasing her own with every beat of her heart.  Her fear returned tenfold.  What if he hurt her in his anger?  She made one last desperate attempt to flee, skirting around him to the door, but he was too fast for her. 

        Robert grabbed her around the waist and spun her around to face him, slamming her roughly against the door and pinning her there with his body.  Belle heard someone scream out in the hall as a painting hit the floor, having been knocked off the wall by the sheer force of their bodies.  “Two hours of torture having to watch you in the arms of other men.  Telll me you want _me,_ Belle,” he murmured throatily against her ear, pulling her long skirt up to bunch around her waist.

        Belle gasped as he slipped his hand between them to unfasten his breeches.  “I want you, Robbie.  I've always wanted you.  Only you,” she breathed, fighting the passion he was invoking in her to reach out and test the shield. It was thinner, lighter, only his love was left to free from it. She cried out in pleasure as he lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist and thrusting into her, sliding easily into her dripping folds.  She was tired of being in a constant state of need for her husband and apparently she wasn’t going to have to wait a moment longer to sate her craving.

        It had been too long since she'd experienced such emotion, such passion, that it overwhelmed her, forcing her to cling to him in their shared desperation to find ecstasy too long denied in the other’s arms.  Belle just held onto him as he thrust into her, her hands tangled in his hair, letting his desire wash over her, stirring hers anew.  Robert dropped to his knees as he gained his release, taking Belle with him as they collapsed against the Aubusson rug.  She squirmed against him, whimpering softly, her own release denied her.  She pressed a kiss to his temple, her arms tightening about him as he fought to breathe, his breath fanning hotly against her neck.

        The doorknob rattled behind them, making Belle swing her startled gaze towards the barrier.  “We can't stay here,” she whispered.  Reluctantly he withdrew from her and helped her to her feet, holding fast to her arm as she swayed unsteadily.  “And you can't go running about the house like that,” she said, indicating his state of undress.

        “Watch me.  It's my bloody house and whoever doesn't like it be damned,” he said with a waggle of his eye brows as he tucked himself back into his breeches and fastened them.  He smiled and Belle's breath caught in her throat.  She'd missed his crooked smile, the flash of his pearly teeth and the twinkle in his eye.  He was coming back to her and she wanted to weep from the sheer joy of it all.

        Belle screamed as he bent and lifted her over his shoulder, unlocking the door and sprinting toward the stairs.  “Oh, hello, Mrs. Dandridge,” he said as he ran past her.  Belle hid her face in his back as she bounced on his shoulder all the way up the staircase and into their bedchamber.

        Her face was beet red when he dropped her on the bed, laughter bubbling from her lips.  “Hell’s fiery breath!  We'll be blackballed from London society,” she said, laughing harder.  “I can see the headline of the society page in the Gazette. 'The Duke and Duchess of Sheffield--” she couldn't finish, her laughter dying in her throat as Robert took her bare foot in his hand and kissed the arch.

        Robert's eyes were almost black with desire, his pupils blown wide with lust.  He pressed his lips to her ankle, his hand moving up her calf.  “Did I hurt you? Before?” he asked, his lips moving upward along her knee.  What had happened moments before in the study had barely taken the edge off and he felt rather guilty that she hadn’t found her own pleasure. “Did I, my Belle?”

        Belle shook her head, unable to speak as she watched his lips move ever so slowly over the ivory flesh of her slender calf..  She reached out to him, pulling him to her and wrapping her arms around his neck.  “Kiss me, Robbie,” she pleaded.  Robert pressed his lips to hers and poured all his pent up desire into that kiss, tasting her for the first time in too long.  He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she moaned, pulling his hair and squirming beneath him, unable to get close enough.

        She pushed against his shoulders until he rolled over onto his back, pulling her atop him.  Belle bit the top button off his shirt and spit it across the room, pressing her lips to his collarbone and nipping it with her teeth.  She spread kisses along his jaw as her shaking fingers continued to unbutton his shirt, pushing it aside to reveal his pale chest to her hungry gaze.  And all the time she was chipping away at the shield enveloping his heart, his love, weakening it little by little.

        “Let me in, Robbie,” she whispered, her tongue circling the skin below his ear.  “Let me into your heart, luv,” she crooned.  “Can't you feel me trying to get in?” she asked, straddling his hips and pulling her gown over her head, tossing it to the side.  She got off the bed and pulled his leather breeches over his hips and down his legs, exposing him to her gaze, running her hands up the insides of his thighs, her lips inches away from his hardness.

        “Belle--” his breath caught in his throat as she took him into her mouth.  He couldn't breathe for the sheer pleasure of it.  He grabbed her upper arms and lifted her to his mouth, rolling her beneath her and bucking against her, his teeth clenched in concentration.  She reached between their bodies and he whimpered as she placed him at her entrance, urging him into her welcoming heat.  Robert lay very still within her, letting her adjust to his weight while he fought to control his raging passion.

        “Let me in, Robbie,” she whispered, laying her hand over his heart.  She was near dizzy with the effort of trying to chip away at the shield, and didn't know how she was going to break through without his help.  “You have to want me there, Robbie.  Let me love you,” she pleaded, kissing the corner of his mouth.  “I need you.”

        The shield cracked.  Robert gathered her closer and moved his hips. “I feel you, Belle.  Don't stop!” he howled.  “Whatever you're doing, don't stop.”  She moved with him, matching his rhythm, pouring her love, her desire, her passion, her very soul into him until finally the shield dissolved and let her fully into his heart.  It rebounded to her and returned to him over and over until it was a complete circle that enveloped them.

        “I love you, Robbie,” she cried as she climaxed with him, her inner muscles spasming and clenching, pulling him over the edge to drown in the euphoria that was rapidly spreading through her.  She forced her eyes open and gazed up at him in awe.  He was staring down at her with all the love in the world in his devil dark eyes.  “Tell me, luv.  Tell me what you're feeling,” she coaxed.  But she didn't need to hear the words…she could feel them.  They were there in every line of his face, his eyes, his heart.

        “I love you, Belle.  I'll always love you.”

        _Forever._

X*X*X*X*X

 

It was nearly dawn and Belle was still awake.  She was lying on her stomach, her head resting on her arms as Robert trailed kisses up her back.  “Robbie, as lovely as this is, I'm starving.”

        “As am I,” he said, the husky timbre of his voice having the same effect on her as his nibbling kisses.  “I suppose you can't wait for breakfast?”

        “Hmm.  Can't you smell the bread baking downstairs?” she asked, her stomach growling loudly.  She laughed softly, turning onto her side to face him.  “We could go down to the kitchen for a snack.”    

        “I know what I wish we could snitch from the kitchen,” he said with a raised brow.

        “What?”

        “Eclairs,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth teasingly.

        “Oooh,” she moaned, remembering how he tasted after he'd eaten the delectable pastry.  “Do you think there's any left from the ball?”

        “Let's go see.”  Robert tossed her dressing gown to her and pulled his breeches on, hunting in the dark for his shirt with the missing button.  “I think I'm going to keep this shirt just the way it is,” he said teasingly.

        “Why?”

        “Because I will never forgot how erotic it was watching you bite the button off and spit it across the room.”  Robert swatted her playfully as she passed him on her way to the door and she giggled.

        They crept their way down the servant’s stairs on their way to the kitchen, stopping for kisses along the way.  As they neared the kitchen door, Belle turned on Robert and placed her finger to his lips.  A puzzled frown drew his brows together.

        _“Someone's in the kitchen.”_

_“The cook?” he sent back hesitantly, still not quite comfortable with being able to speak directly into her mind and have her hear him._

_“No, silly.”_ Belle reached out, trying to discern who could be in there at this hour and still maintain her link with Robert.  Her eyes widened as she identified two very familiar minds.

_“Jefferson. . . and Emma.”_

_“What?  They can't stand to be in the same room together.”_

_“Well, I'm not feeling very much animosity between them right now.”_

        Robert pulled her behind him and cracked the door, peering inside.  Sure enough Jefferson and Emma were sitting at the long work counter, their heads bent together.

        _“Emma's heartbeat just picked up!  What're they doing, Robert?”_

_“It looks like they're having a cup of chocolate.”_

_“Oooh, with whipped cream and chocolate shavings?  I want one.”_

Robert shushed her, trying to hear what was going on.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        “Who taught you how to make bread, little girl?” Jefferson asked, scooping some of the whipped cream off the top of his cup and popping it into his mouth.

        “My grandmother, my dad’s mother,” Emma said with a little sigh.  “And please stop calling me that.”

        “What?” he queried with false innocence.

        “ _Little girl_.  I'm not, y'know.  I'm a woman, fully grown,” she insisted, repeating his action with the whipped cream.  “Why do you think my mother is so anxious to marry me off?  It's really rather mercenary of her, to be honest, but she seems to be like all the other marriage-minded mothers of the _ton_.”

        “Eighteen is hardly fully grown.”

        “Sure it is.  I'm just glad she wasn't allowed to trot me out on the marriage mart last year like she wanted to.  Dad wouldn't allow it.”

        “Fully grown,” he snorted.  “You've probably never even been kissed,” Jefferson mused, watching her stick her finger in the whipped cream once more.  He squirmed as she lifted it to her lips and sucked every bit of cream from her finger.  And he felt himself grow hard watching her, his grey eyes growing dark with desire.  He stifled a groan, knowing she wouldn't even be able to recognize the signs.

        He'd had to rescue her once again from the clutches of Lord Wendell on the dance floor.  No woman deserved to be mauled by that lech, especially sweet innocent Emma.  Sweet?  When had he begun to think of her as sweet?  She was probably very sweet with all that whipped cream coating her hot little tongue, he thought darkly, his eyes focusing on her mouth.  He wasn't able to stop his groan this time.

        “Jefferson, what's wrong?  Are you ill?” she asked, pressing the back of her hand against his brow.

        _Oh, luv, you have no idea._ “Stomach ache,” he lied.

        She peeked up at him from beneath her dark blonde lashes.  “And no, I've never been kissed,” she said with a blush.  “I haven't met anyone this season to make me want to hold a conversation with, much less share a kiss.  Besides, it isn’t proper.”

        Jefferson watched her stick her finger back in the whipped cream and decided he'd suffered enough, alone.  As her finger reached her lips, Jefferson caught her hand in his and slowly raised it to his lips, sucking her finger into his mouth, and watching her eyes darken with desire.  He sucked it deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue about the tip, and when the cream was gone, he released it and licked the tip.  Emma's bottom lip trembled on the little gasp she emitted, watching every move he made with his lips and tongue.

        “What's wrong, rabbit?  You look a little breathless,” he said softly, his eyes still focused intently on her mouth.

        “I-I th-think I'm catching your stomach ache,” she stammered, raising her confused gaze to his.  “Is that even possible?”

        “What kind of stomach ache do you think you have?” he asked, his voice a silky purr, knowing full well she'd never experienced anything like it.

        “I don't know.”

        Jefferson slid off of his stool to stand closer to her, never having released her hand.  He rubbed his thumb over her palm in a slow, caressing circle.  “Describe it to me.”

        “It feels like--” she paused, taking a deep steadying breath.  “I don't know.  I've never felt anything like it--”

        Jefferson moved closer to her and she was forced to brace the hand he wasn't holding, against his chest to keep her balance.  His lips were nearly touching her ear when he whispered, “What does it feel like, little rabbit?  Tell me?”

        Jefferson was still caressing her palm, sending heat through her with such an innocent touch.  It was innocent, wasn't it?  She pressed her face to his and moaned, the contact making her shiver.  His lips brushed the curve of her neck in a feather-light touch.  “Tell me.”

        “Like a thousand butterflies have taken flight within me,” she said in barely more than a whisper.

        Jefferson's hand moved to the curve of her waist, slowly moving up her back in a gentle caress.  “What else do you feel?  It might be serious,” he said, smiling against the line of her jaw as his lips moved to the corner of her mouth.  He pulled back to look at her and groaned.  He'd never seen a woman so ready to be kissed.  “Tell me.”

        “I feel like-- like--” she couldn't finish, the words trailing away as she was swept along the storm tossed sea of emotion he evoked in her.   Emma's hand moved upward and slipped inside the open collar of his shirt where his cravat hung untied about his neck. 

        It was Jefferson's turn to shiver as her hand skimmed lightly over his collarbone.  “Like you've never wanted anything so badly in all your life,” he whispered against her lips.  “Like the most incredible pleasure is within your grasp if you could just reach out and take it?”  he crooned, moving his lips along her jaw to her other ear, his breath teasing the stray tendrils of her honey blonde hair that had escaped the pins.

        Emma gasped.  “Yes.”

        “It means you want me, Emma.  What you're feeling is desire, luv, that you’re just aching to be kissed,” he said, his hand slipping into her hair to hold her still for his kiss.  “Is that what you want? Do you want me to kiss you, sweet?”

When she didn’t…couldn’t…answer, he brushed his lips to hers, molding them with his own, parting them to make way for his tongue.  “Oh, luv, you taste like chocolate and cream,” he groaned against her sweet lips.

        “Um, I hate to interrupt, but the bread is burning,” Belle said from the kitchen doorway before ducking her head back outside.

        Jefferson froze and rested his brow against Emma's.  He left her on the stool and went to the oven to retrieve the bread, setting it on the work table.  He returned to his stool opposite her and took a sip of his cold chocolate.  She finally raised her head and stabbed him with an accusing glare.

        “Why would you do that to me?” she asked, instantly wary of his motives.

        “What? Kiss you?”

        “Why would you kiss me like that when you've made it perfectly clear, on more than one occasion, that you can't stand the sight of me?  Why?” she asked, a tear escaping the corner of her eye to roll down her flushed cheek.

        “I didn't do it to hurt you, Emma,” he said softly, guilt weighing heavily upon him that he’d somehow hurt her when that hadn’t been his intention.  “I did it because I wanted to.”

        “Why, Jefferson?” she asked, hurt clearly evident in her voice.

        “Because I wanted you to know what desire felt like, so the next time you're kissed you know.  If you're going to marry someone your mother chooses for you, I don't want you to settle for less than what you felt in my arms tonight. No woman should.”

        “You wanted to teach me a lesson?” she implored scathingly.  Emma rose from her stool and slapped him as hard as she could, turning to flee.  “Next time you want to kiss me, Jefferson Madden, make sure it's because you want to and not to teach me some bloody lesson you think I need to learn.”

        “That's not the point, Emma,” Jefferson yelled after her, but she'd already gone.  One thing was for sure, he thought, raking a frustrated hand through his hair, he'd never think of Emma Morrison again as a little girl.

 

        “She gone?” Robert asked with a wide smile as he stuck his head through the kitchen door.

        “Yeah, she's gone, her feather's all ruffled and such,” Jefferson said, pulling a loaf of bread within his reach and slicing into it.  He passed a piece to Robert and cut into it again.

        “You and Emma, huh?” Belle asked, placing the butter dish between the two friends.  Robert buttered the bread, broke off half and offered it to Belle before shoving his slice into his mouth.

        “There is no me and Emma,” Jefferson insisted rather loudly.

        Robert's smile widened.  “That's not what it looked like to us,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and pulling Belle back between his spread thighs to rest her back against his chest, wrapping his arms about her waist in a possessive manner.

        “It's not a big deal, Robbie.  It was just a kiss.”

        “And whipped cream,” Belle said, a dreamy smile upon her lips.

        “And chocolate,” Robert said against her ear, sending a surge of heat through her.

        “Chocolate kisses,” they said together.

        “Oh, you two need to go back to bed,” Jefferson said with disgust, rising from the stool to leave the kitchen.  He stopped abruptly and turned on them.  “Wait a minute.  Robbie, you're smiling and drooling all over your wife.  Does that mean?”

        Belle blushed prettily as Robbie nuzzled her neck.  “I finally broke through, Jefferson.  He's our old Robbie again, insatiable as ever.”

        “Took you long enough,” Jefferson teased.

        Belle poked him in the ribs.  “Jefferson, what is Emma even doing here?  It's nearly dawn.  Shouldn't she have gone home with Regina?” she asked, her brows drawing together in a puzzled frown.

        “Abby asked her to stay.  She's not at all pleased with Regina's attempts to make a match between Emma and Lord Wendell.  She didn't trust Regina not to 'accidentally' send Emma home with the lech,” he said, disgust thick in his voice.

        “And just how does my mother know about Regina's plans?” Robert asked.

        Jefferson frowned and sat down again on the stool, abandoning his plan to go to bed in favor of spending time with his friend.  It had been too long since they'd been able to have a decent conversation, what with all the trouble from August.  “I told her.”

        “Aha,” Belle mused.  “You _do_ have feelings for Emma.”

        “I do not have feelings for Emma Morrison.  I just don't want to see her with Wendell.  You don't know him like Robert and I do,” Jefferson insisted.  “He's on the hunt for his third wife after the first two died under very mysterious circumstances.”

        “Why hasn't he been brought up on charges?”

        “Because, luv, no one has ever been able to find any evidence that he was responsible for their deaths,” Robert replied, picking at the half eaten loaf of bread on the counter.

        Jefferson sliced the loaf into three pieces, taking one for himself.  “What I don't understand is that once he married them, he kept them sequestered away on his estate.  You never saw them in London for any reason, not even to shop.  What woman doesn't come to town at least once a year to shop?”

        “Regardless, we don't want to see your dear cousin married to that monster,” Robert said, offering Belle a bite when he heard her stomach growl again.

        “But what can we do about it?” Jefferson asked, brushing his hands together to rid them of any crumbs.

        “I have a solution, but I don't think you'll like it, Jeff,” Belle said, a wicked smile lifting the corners of her mouth.  She'd felt Jefferson's feelings for Emma.  She knew that he desired her.  Why wouldn't it work?

        “What, pray tell?” the earl mumbled, crossing his arms defiantly over his chest.  He had some idea of what was going on in that pretty head of hers, just by the overtly mischievous smile she wore.

        “ _You_ marry Emma.”

        Jefferson's mouth gaped open in horror.  “Surely, you jest.  I have nothing in common with the chit.  We'd kill each other within a week under the same roof.  Absolutely not!” he protested.

        “Sweetheart, I don't think--” Robert said, but Belle cut him off.

        “You didn't feel them, Robert,” she protested, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.

        “Well, I should hope not!” he sputtered, trying his best not to laugh.

        “Belle, this is really disturbing, y'know.  You can't just go around _feeling_ every blasted person in the house.  Some things are just private,” Jefferson railed, unsettled by her gift.  “And I am not going to give in to my _feelings_ , as you say, so the point is moot, m'dear.”

        “Uh-huh,” Belle scoffed, letting the matter drop.  Robert smothered a huge yawn against her neck.  “Tired, luv?”

        “Exhausted.”

        “You two haven't had any sleep? You left the ball at eleven o'clock.  What--” Jefferson stopped abruptly as a blush spread up Belle's neck to settle in her cheeks.  “Nevermind.  I think I'll go to bed since I had to play host with Abby tonight.  Then I had to babysit Emma to make sure she--”

        “She what, Jefferson?” Robert asked, grinning broadly at his friend's discomfort.

        “Goodnight.”  And with that Jefferson left the kitchen, his friend's laughter ringing in his ears.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

Belle frowned in her sleep and snuggled closer to the warm body lying next to her, pressing her face into the curve of his neck.  She wasn't ready to get up, although she knew she should.  Robert's hand curved over her hip and slid his leg between hers.

        “Robbie, what is that tapping? Always with the tapping,” she said in exasperation, rolling onto her other side and pulling the covers over her head.  She peeked at him as he got up to see who was at the door.  “Pants, luv.”

        Robert looked down at himself and grinned sheepishly.  She wasn't the only one who wanted a few more hours of blissful sleep.  They hadn't gone directly to sleep when they'd returned to their room.  No, Belle had found two éclairs in the kitchen that she'd insisted on bringing up with them.  Her chocolate addiction had resulted in another long bout of love making.  Not that he was complaining, now that he was himself again.  He pulled his robe on and belted it on the way to the door, raking a hand through his mussed hair.

        “What is it?” he asked, stifling a yawn.

        “I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Nora said, dropping into a quick curtsy.  “Her Grace asks that you and the duchess join her for dinner.  She said she'd hold service until you arrived.”

        “Holy hell, it's nearly six,” he cursed, glancing at the clock on the mantle. “Yes, Nora, thank you.  Tell my mother we will join her shortly.”

        Robert shut the door and climbed back into bed with Belle, pulling the covers away from her face.  “Wake up, luv.”

        “I don't want to,” she said, reaching for him and pulling him down to her for a kiss.  “Let's just stay in bed,” she said, trailing kisses along his stubbled jaw.

        Robert's stomach growled, giving her his answer.  “Sorry, my Belle.  We really need to go down.  I’m starving and we need to get there before Jefferson gobbles everything up.”

        “Fine,” she pouted, rising from the bed.

        “Besides, we need sustenance to keep our strength up,” he said, a devilish glint in his dark eyes.

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        Abigail rose to her feet as Robert and Belle entered the parlor, her eyes shooting icy daggers at her son.  “Nice of you to join me, dearest.”

          _Uh-oh!_   “Good evening, Mother,” he said warily.

        “Where is everyone, Abby?” Belle asked, kissing the dowager's cheek.

        Abigail led them to the dining room and allowed Robert to seat her on his left.  “Emma, the dear girl, had to return home this afternoon.  And then, only after Regina had sent her messenger around three times ordering her home.  That woman!” the dowager fumed.  “She doesn't deserve Emma.  The way she treats that girl.”

        “And Jefferson?” Robert asked, assuming his seat at the head of the table.

        “He woke this afternoon in an abominable mood and I wasn't surprised when he told me where he was going,” Abigail replied with a smirk.  “He's going home to Rochefort.  Said he'd join you at Sheffield in a week.”

        “Why would that put him in such a foul mood?”  Belle asked, taking a small sip of her wine.

        “His mother,” Robert answered with a dark frown.  “They have a very complicated relationship.”

        Belle began to cut through her roast pork, letting the matter drop.  She turned narrowed eyes on Abigail, feeling the tension between the dowager and Robert.  The duke knew he'd upset her for some imagined grievance and sat back to wait.  Abigail continued to send icy glares his way as she ate.

        “Alright, Abby.  What is troubling you so?” Belle asked, unable to ignore the tension any longer.

        Abigail set her fork down with a loud clang beside her plate and pulled a piece of paper from the pocket of her skirt.  “This is what is troubling me, my dear,” she replied, handing the paper to Belle.

        _Uh-oh._   Belle unfolded the paper Abigail had taken from this morning's newspaper and laid it flat on the table so Robert could read it with her.

 

 

**_THE SCANDALOUS DUKE OF SHEFFIELD_ **

_Last evening's ball at the townhouse of the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield was by far this season's most entertaining gala of the season._

“Well, that doesn't sound so bad,” Robert said, hope rising in his chest.

        “Keep reading,” Abigail replied drolly, sipping her wine.

        “Uh-oh.” From Belle.

 

                _The food was delicious, the music was delightful and light and the decorations were a treat to the senses.  But this author has to give the duke credit for the wonderful entertainment._

 

        “What entertainment?  Did you hire a juggler or something?”

        “Keep reading, Robert,” Abigail hissed.

 

_This ball was intended to be a celebration of the Duke and Duchess' recent nuptials, their very hurried nuptials.  Towards the beginning of the evening, this author had to wonder about the details of their hurried marriage since neither the duke nor duchess looked very pleased to be in the others company.  Well, dear readers, we can't be sure what Lord Wendell did to make His Grace so angry, but his lordship literally dragged his new duchess from the dance floor in a very public display._

Belle blanched and drained her wine glass.

        Robert groaned.

 

_They never made a reappearance at the ball.  This author later learned that the duke was seen, dashing up the stairs with his duchess over his shoulder in quite a state of undress.  Quite the scandal, ladies and gentlemen.  Apparently, Belle Gold secured a proposal from His Grace because of his deep love for her, despite the nasty rumors circulating to the contrary.  This author can only hope that when she decides to marry, she should be as lucky as the new Duchess of Sheffield._

_“_ God's pearly teeth,” Belle cursed, stifling a laugh behind her cloth napkin.

        “Bloody idiot.  What the hell does she know?” Robert groused. 

        “Apparently, she got a good earful last night,” Abigail replied, sarcasm dripping from her tone.

        “You believe this rubbish?” he asked, quirking a brow at her.

        Abigail ground her teeth together and prayed for patience.  “Since Lady Dandridge, whom you wished a good evening to on your way up the stairs,” she said, her voice rising alarmingly.  “told me the exact same story, then yes.  I do.”

        “Belle, luv.  Are you distressed about this?”

        “Not a bit.  Are you?”

        “No.”

        “How can you two sit there like this author was droning on about the weather?  This is all over London by now.  You'll be blacklisted because of your behavior,” Abigail screeched, her face turning an alarming shade of puce.

        “Mother, I wasn't cavorting about half naked with an innocent young debutante I randomly chose off the dance floor.  Belle is my wife, my duchess.  Besides, who cares what the _ton_ thinks.  We'll be returning to Sheffield in a matter of days where we will remain for the remainder of the season.  We aren't the first scandal to hit this town and I'm fairly certain we won't be the last.”

        Rivers entered the dining room and began instructing the footmen to clear the table.  “Your Grace, Travers is waiting for you in your study.  He said he has news, sir.”

        Robert pulled Belle's chair out and took her hand, leading her down the hall to his study.  She blushed prettily as she remembered their love making last night against the study door.  She poured a glass of scotch and handed it to her husband as he sat down in the chair behind his desk, moving to the sofa before the fireplace.

        “What news, Travers?” Robert asked, a worried frown creasing his brow.

        “Whitmore's escaped, Your Grace.”

        “What? How?” Belle asked, stepping forward, a hand to her heart.  “Was anyone hurt?”

        “Tessa's dead.  Seems she'd developed a fancy for him even though she'd been warned.  When she didn't return yesterday evening from bringing Whitmore his evening meal, we went to investigate and found her body in his cell.  Broken neck,” he said stiffly.

        “Have you sent men out to search,” Robert asked, dread clawing at his gut.

        “Yes, Your Grace.  They will be ready to report upon your return to Sheffield.

        Robert could feel Belle's panic, so strong she was unable to stop herself from projecting it.  “Travers, go to Rochefort.  Tell Jefferson I need him.  He will want to be there.”  Travers bowed and left the room to follow out Robert's orders.

        Robert wrapped Belle tightly in his embrace, lending her strength, willing her to calm.  She pressed her face to his neck, her arms trapped against his chest and breathed deeply.  “There's no coming back from murder, Robbie.  August is truly lost to me, now.”

        “He's going to come for you,” he said, twining his hand in her hair and rubbing it between his fingers.  “I promise I won't let him hurt you, Belle.”

        “I know.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Happy Christmas, dearies!! My gift to you this holiday season is not making you wait until Saturday for this posting!! And…wait it gets better…I will still be posting the final chapter of this story this weekend. I’m sorry I didn’t write an original Christmas o/s for all you lovely people, but I’ve been swamped with the MadSwan sequel to this story and my SGU/OUAT RushBelle fic…and thanks to the mid season finale can anyone say it with me…Rumbelle writer’s block!!! Well, here’s wishing you all a wonderful holiday and God Bless. I hope Santa leaves you something really nice this year!!! xoxoxox


	13. Chapter 13

 

        Belle let the curtain fall back into place and resumed her pacing.  They'd been back at Sheffield for over a month and still August hadn't been found.  She paced over to Robert's desk and poured herself a cup of tea from the service Nora had placed there for her.  She paced back to the window and pulled the curtain open once more, looking for any sign of Jefferson or her husband.  The two of them had taken a dozen men with them each day, searching the countryside for August with no luck.  Robert had men everywhere in a constant search, assuring Belle that he would be found soon.

        Belle wasn't sure she wanted him to be found.  He was sure to hang for poor Tessa's murder.  Now Robert was convinced that August was responsible for their parent’s deaths.  That had been a row she'd just as soon forget.  She'd been so angry with him, she'd gone to bed in the duchess' bedchamber.  That hadn't lasted long, however. 

        Robert had burst through the connecting door and without a word, swept her up into his arms and carried her to their bed.  Their lovemaking had been wild and untamed and afterward he'd pulled to her into his arms as he did every night to sleep.  “I love you, Belle,” he'd told her finally.  “But you will not build a wall between us every time you get angry with me.”

        “I didn't,” she'd insisted.

        “Yes, you did, luv.  Every day you give me more of yourself.  Did you think I couldn't feel you closing yourself off from me?”

        “I didn't realize, Robbie.  I'm sorry.”

        Belle didn't want to close herself off from him.  It had been completely unintentional, but the stress of this situation with her brother was becoming unbearable.  Robert had men guarding her day and night.  If August was going to come for her, there was no chance of him getting close to her.  She was sure she would feel him a mile away if he did as her gift had never been stronger.  Belle had been setting aside at least two hours a day to practice using it in different situations.  Now she could even do it without having those infernal headaches.

        Where was he?  Robert had gone to London three days ago to check on his mother, who had remained there for her own safety at Robert's insistence.  He'd also wanted to speak to several of his contacts at the wharf to make sure August hadn't been seen boarding a ship out of the country.  Belle wanted him to come home, it was as simple as that.  She missed him and hated to sleep in that big beg without him.  She missed his heat, his passion and his embrace.  Damn August!

        Belle turned her head distractedly as Nora answered the knock at the study door and admitted one of the crofters from the village.  He handed her a message and quickly left.

        “What is it, Nora?”

        “Message for you, Your Grace.”

        Belle took the missive from Nora and tore it open, scanning the contents.

 

        _Belle_ _—_

_We have him.  Come to the tavern in the village to say_

_goodbye._

_Robert_

Belle went to the desk and withdrew paper and quill from the drawer, setting about her task.

 

        _My darling Robbie_ _—_

_Please don’t be angry with me, luv.  I received the enclosed missive, knowing that it isn’t from you.  I know you would never entrust my safety to anyone aside from yourself and that this is a ruse.  August is trying to lure me out of the castle.  If I know my brother, he’s wanting to bring me with him in his escape.  He is my twin, after all.  I’m leaving now to meet him in the village.  You should meet up with us on the road to London or at the docks, for that is surely where he will meet his ship._

_Find me, Robbie.  I need you to find me.  Reach out to me as I taught you and you should have no problems.  Remember that I love you.  Always, my love._

_All my heart_ _—_

_Belle_

 

        “Nora, find Travers and bring him to me,” she ordered her maid, sealing the envelope with wax and the seal Robert had given her with her own insignia.  She didn’t have long to wait.

        “Yes, Your Grace,” he said with a bow.

        “I need you to send our fastest rider to Robert.  I know where August is and am pretty sure I know what he’s up to,” she said, handing the sealed letter to Robert’s most loyal servant.

        “But, Your Grace, you—”

        Belle raised an imperious brow at the man, cutting him off.  “I need him to leave at once, Travers.  Am I making myself clear?”

        “Yes, Your Grace.”

 

X*X*X*X*X 

 

        Belle dismounted and stared up at the exterior of the tavern.  She'd never been to the village, much less an unsavory establishment such as this.  She knew Robert would never have asked her to come here, reaffirming her suspicions that it was August who had sent the note.  She unfurled her gift and searched, her eyes fixed on the door.  She could feel four different men inside, and something akin to a mental brick wall.  August, and he was blocking her.

        “Your Grace, I really think we should return to Sheffield.  This is not a place for you,” Travers said in a low voice next to her.

        “Wait for me here, Travers.  And should anything happen, find Robert.  Don't follow and don't interfere, just get to my husband with all haste.  He'll know what to do.”

        Belle sent Travers off along with her horse.  If August _was_ planning to kidnap her, he'd have to arrange for transportation which would slow him down enough for her messenger to reach Robert.  She drew the hood of her cloak up to cover her chestnut locks and opened the door.  The tavern was fairly clean, but dark, heavy curtains covering the windows.  Before her eyes could adjust, a heavy arm circled her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest, a hand covering her mouth to prevent her screams.

        “Hello, sister dear,” August whispered fiercely in her ear.

        “August,” she answered as he removed his hand.  “Where've you been, brother?” she asked, as he began wrapping a length of rope about her wrists.

“Where are we going, pray tell,” she asked drolly when he didn’t answer.

        The other four occupants refused to look at them, minding their own business.  August saw the focus of her gaze and grinned.  “No need trying to seek help from them, Belle.  They don't even know we're here.  Come along, then.”

        Belle followed along behind him docilely, refusing to give him any reason to lose his temper.  She didn't need a violent August on her hands, especially since his mental state was in such a precarious place.  “Where are we going?”

        “Home, of course,” he answered, opening the back door of the tavern and immediately handing her up into a carriage.  “London wharf,” he shouted at the driver and climbed in behind her.

        “And just what is this going to accomplish, Auggie?  You're a wanted man in Portland.  What kind of life do you expect to have there?” she asked, eyeing him warily as she tried to maintain her calm. 

        There was a glint of madness in his eyes, sending a shiver of fear tripping up her spine. His clothes were disheveled as if he hadn’t had a chance to bathe or change in days, but it was the red-rimmed frightening cerulean eyes staring back at her that caused her to be so very afraid.  “We're only making a short stop off in Portland, m'dear.  You're going to pay a visit to our solicitor and tell him I've died.  He will then turn our inheritance over to you and we can find somewhere else to build a life and find you a husband.”

        “I have a husband, Auggie.  One whom I love very much.  I don't want another husband,” she insisted, her eyes darkening with anger.  “I don't know why you've done this, but Robert will never allow me to leave the country.”

        “Why am I doing this?” he hissed, reaching out to take her chin in a firm grip.  “You are my sister, Belle, and I am sworn to protect you, to care for you, to make sure you don't end up in the hands of a bounder.  What would our father have to say about you married to a blasted Englishman, forced to live in this cursed country?”

        Belle jerked her head away from him, rolling her eyes as she glanced out the carriage window, noting their slow progress.  Her messenger should be miles ahead of them by now.  She thanked every deity she'd ever heard of that she'd been right about August's plans and the foresight to send word ahead to her husband instead of running off blindly into danger.

        She turned her seething gaze back to her brother.  “Father would want me to be happy, August.  He wouldn't care if my husband was from the wilds of Africa.  All that would concern him was whether or not I was happy.  You're being a selfish bastard, and now you’re wanted for murder in this country as well as our own.  There’s no coming back from murder, Auggie.  There’s nothing awaiting you except a trip to the gallows.”

        “We’ll see, m’dear.  You’ll have plenty of time on our voyage to change your mind,” he said with a yawn, settling back against the padded seat.  “You’ll come around to my way of thinking soon enough.”

        “Don’t hold your breath, Auggie.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        Robert checked the load in his pistol and shoved it into the waistband of his breeches before taking the second Jefferson handed him.  “Are we ready?”

        “Everything is in place,” Jefferson replied, loading his own weapon.  “I don't think there's a chance he could get past us with Belle.”

        “Well, I've paid off three ship captains to remain in port until they have clearance from me.  And that didn't come cheap, that,” he grumbled distractedly.  “We just don't know which ship Whitmore is going to choose.  He didn't purchase tickets, so he must be waiting until he arrives.”

        “You think he suspects anything?”

        “Doubtful.  I'm just worried he'll hurt Belle in his present state of mind.”  A worried frown creased his brow as he braced his back against the containers he and Jefferson were concealed behind.  He pulled Belle's letter from his breast pocket and read it once more.  It was creased badly from how many times he'd read her words.  Foolish girl!  She was deliberately putting herself in danger to put an end to this.  He was going to put her over his knee when he finally had her safely at home.  He never should've left her there alone.

        “Stop beating yourself up, Robbie.  You know even if you had been home, she would've done the same.  She's headstrong and stubborn,” he said quietly, watching the wharf.  “Quit worrying.  We've got men stationed all over the wharf.  He's not going to slip past us.”

        _“Robert!”_

Robert tensed and placed his hand on Jefferson's arm.  “She's close.”

        _“Robert, we're nearly there.  He's taking me to Portland.  You've got to stop him.”_

        Robert shook his head, her voice so loud it was nearly deafening.  Jefferson reached out a steadying hand to him.  “Are you alright?”

        “They're close.  She said he's going to take them to Portland.”

        “But which ship are they using?” Jefferson whispered, moving along the building next to them, keeping to the deep shadows of twilight.

        _“Belle?”_

_“I'm here.”_

_“Which ship is he planning to board?  There are three, and I need to know where you are.”_

_“I don't know, Robbie.  Do something!”_

Jefferson motioned for him to stop, pointing in the distance at an approaching carriage.  Together they moved forward, keeping to the shadows, drawing closer to the second ship, motioning to their men to be at the ready.  Robert was nearly there, could see the carriage door swinging open.  August dropped to the ground and reached in, dragging Belle out behind him by her bound hands.  He could feel her panic and Robert had to take a deep breath and steady the hand that held the pistol.  She'd stopped communicating with him, probably afraid that with August touching her he would be able to hear her thoughts.

        Belle dug in her heels as August pulled her toward the gangplank.  “Stop right there, Whitmore.  Let her go,” Robert yelled, stepping behind them and training his pistol on the center of August's back.  Jefferson was there at his side, his pistol pointed as well, ready to use.

        August turned slowly, pulling his own pistol from his belt and pressing it into Belle's side.  “No.  I'm taking her home.”

        “What do you have left there in Portland, Whitmore?  If you return, you'll be hung.”

        A flicker of fear appeared in August's eyes.  “You're lying.”

        “No, I'm not,” Robert assured him.  “Lord Campbell returned this morning with his report, Whitmore.  Don't you remember Belle telling you I had sent someone to investigate your involvement in your parent’s accident?”

        Robert steeled himself against Belle's uncontrolled panic and took a step closer.

        “Yeah, and?” August sneered.

        “Why don't you tell us?  Why did you do it?”

        August jabbed the pistol farther into Belle's side, making Robert stop his slow steps forward.  Madness was twisting August's features and Robert was gripped with fear, fear for Belle.  If the man had killed his parents, he wouldn't hesitate to take her life.

        “Why?  Because the old bastard changed his will.  Said he was tired of cleaning up after me.  The gambling, whoring, drinking, was just a bit much, you see.  Dragged me into his study and said he was cutting me off, that he was leaving everything to my dear sister.  Couldn't have that, now could I?  Figured it was time to be rid of him.  Didn't know mother would get hurt, though.”

        “August, no,” Belle moaned, tears coursing down her ashen face.

        “I didn't think anyone would be able to prove it wasn't an accident.”

        “And what did you think Belle would do when she discovered the truth?” Robert asked, inching forward another step as August took a step onto the gangplank.

        “I figured I would marry her off to a bloke hard pressed for money and easily controlled.  I'm her brother, after all.  She'd never turn her back on me.”

        _“Take the shot, Robbie!”_

Robert froze.  _“I can't.  What if I hit you instead?”_

 _“Take the bloody shot, Robert!”_   she screamed, her panic reverberating inside his head.  She knew he was a crack shot.  _“I trust you.  I know you won't miss.”_

        Robert fired, his bullet hitting August in his shoulder.  Jefferson fired, his bullet hitting August in the right temple as he jerked.  A third shot.  August's pistol fired in reflex as he went down, dragging Belle down to the dock with him.

        “Well, just shit!” Belle cursed as she tried to untangle herself from her brother's splayed limbs.  “Owwwww!”

        “Belle,” Robert shouted over the running footsteps pounding on the dock, his men coming to investigate the shots.  “Are you alright?”

        “No, you ass!” she shouted back at him, holding her side.  “Auggie shot me.”

        “Jefferson, fetch the doctor and bring him to the townhouse.  Belle's been wounded,” Robert ordered and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the carriage and laying her gently on the cushioned seat.

        “1402 Thornton Ave, now!” he shouted at the driver and climbed in after her.  He held his hand over the wound to stem the flow of blood.  She looked so pale in the dim light.  “Stay with me, luv.”

        Belle felt like she was floating.  Leave it to August to spread his evil just a bit more before he went to hell.  Memories of her childhood with her brother flashed before her eyes, and she nearly choked on a sob.  Reading together, her twin pummeling the nasty boy that lived three townhouses over for pulling her braids, him escorting her to her first garden party, the two of them sneaking off in the dead of night to watch an eclipse without their nanny being aware…how had it all gone so wrong?  What had made him into the monster he’d become?  But worse yet, why couldn’t she have seen it happening and done something to save him?  Now it was too late and she’d have to come to terms with her failure.  Thankfully she had Robert to lean on, to love her, to support her through her grief and help her through the worst of it.

        She opened her eyes and cast her husband a loving glance.  Tears had escaped his eyes to roll down his face, catching in a day’s growth of stubble on his jaw.  She lifted her hand to wipe them away, his hand catching hers and placing a kiss on her palm. 

        Belle smiled weakly and let the darkness take her, one last thought drifting through her mind.  _“I love you, Robbie.”_

 

X*X*X*X*X

Robert paced the floor before the fireplace in his study, his fourth glass of scotch clasped tightly in his hand.  The dowager had evicted him from the bedroom where the doctor was working on Belle and locked the door behind him, barring his entrance.

        “The doctor can help her better if you aren't screaming at the poor man,” she'd scolded.  “Now go downstairs with Jefferson and have a drink.  We'll let you know something soon.”

        Jefferson had already dispensed with the magistrate investigating August's death.  Of course, a nice fat pay off and charges Jefferson brought against Whitmore for theft, murder and kidnapping made the magistrate see things his way.  Robert couldn't care less at the moment.  His concern was for his wife, lying pale and lifeless in their bed.

        Robert tossed back his drink and placed it on the mantle, raking a hand through his hair.  He didn't want to think about her cold and pale, her life's blood soaking her dress.  He didn't want to think about how silent it was without her gift drawing at him, teasing him with her thoughts.  He didn't want to admit to himself how important she was, how much he needed her, how cold and empty his life was without her.  He couldn’t go back to how it had been before.

        “Where do you think you're going?” Jefferson asked, placing a restraining hand on Robert's arm as he made a dash for the door.  “You're not going back upstairs to harass the doctor.”

        “They've been up there for two bloody hours,” he roared, ignoring the glass of scotch Jefferson offered, flopping down onto the sofa and dropping his head into his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

        “Robbie, she was wounded pretty badly.  It's going to take time,” Jefferson said softly, his voice sympathetic.  “Why don't you go get cleaned up a bit.  You don't want her to see you like that, covered in blood as you are.  You'll frighten her.”

        Robert shot to his feet as the study door opened and his mother entered, followed by the doctor.  “Well?  How is my wife?”

        Dr. Gibbons sighed and put his spectacles away in his pocket.  “Her Grace is a very lucky woman.  The bullet lodged against her hip bone and I was able to remove it fairly easily.  But she's lost a lot of blood.  It's going to take her awhile to recover her strength.  She's young and healthy, so she should pull through just fine.”

        Robert dropped back onto the sofa with a sigh of relief and accepted the glass from Jefferson, tossing it back.  “Thank you, Dr. Gibbons.  I'll be sending a draft along to your office tomorrow,” he said, smiling for the first time in days.  “And my best bottle of scotch.”

        Gibbons turned to leave.  “I'm just very pleased that no harm came to the baby.  Good night, Your Grace.”

        Robert's glass fell from his hand, shattering on the floor, his mouth gaping open in shock.  Baby?  Why hadn't Belle told him?  A baby.  Jefferson rapped him on the back, a huge smile splitting his face.  Abigail was crying tears of joy.

        “Well, say something, Robbie,” Abigail said through her tears.

        “A baby? Why didn't Belle say anything?”

        “The doctor said she couldn't be more than a few weeks along.  Belle probably doesn't know herself that she's with child,” Abigail explained.

        “I need to see her,” Robert said, hurrying out the door.

        “She's sedated, Robbie.”

        “I don't care.”

 

X*X*X*X*X

 

        It was morning when Belle woke to a hot burning pain in her hip.  At least the pain was helping to dissolve the fog in her brain.  The events of the past evening came back with a vengeance, bringing tears to her eyes.  August was lost to her forever…along with his madness and his evil.  Her heart was breaking with the knowledge that she hadn't been able to save him.  To think that he'd truly been responsible for their parent’s death.  There hadn't been the least bit of remorse in him, no regret.  How had he changed so much in the past year and her not to have noticed it?

        Belle opened her eyes and squinted against the bright sunlight streaming through the windows.  She winced as pain shot through her hip, biting her lip to stifle a moan.  She was lying in bed at the townhouse.  This time she did groan…she didn't want to be in London. 

        Robert had pulled a chair next to the bed and fallen asleep, his head cradled on his arms.  She lifted her hand and brushed the hair away from his eyes, thinking he needed to trim it.  He looked like he hadn't slept in days.  There were dark circles under his eyes and a full day's growth of stubble on his jaw attesting to that fact, and to her he looked sexy as hell.  He started at her touch, pressing her fingertips to his lips.

        “You're awake.  Finally!” he growled, his voice husky with sleep.

        “What do you mean, finally?” she asked, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper.  “How long have I been sleeping?”

        “Three days.”

        “What!”

        “It's been three days since that night on the docks,” he explained, rising to pour a glass of water from the pitcher and lifting it to her lips, urging her to quench a thirst she hadn’t realized she’d had.  “Better?”

        “Much.  What happened?  I don't remember anything after you put me in the carriage,” she said, rubbing her temples, her face screwed up in concentration, trying to remember.

        Robert stood next to the bed, trying to decide what he should tell her.  “You were shot and bleeding, so I brought you here and had Jefferson fetch the doctor.”

        “Alright,” she said, nodding.  Her husband was famous for stating the obvious.

        “Dr. Gibbons was able to remove the bullet,” he was quick to assure her.  “It had lodged against your hip bone.  It didn't do any serious damage, but you'll no doubt have a scar once you heal.”         

        Robert was watching her too closely and Belle could feel the tension pouring off of him, realizing he was hiding something.  “Out with it, Gold.”

        Robert's brows shot into his hairline in surprise.  “What?”

        “What you're not telling me, the issue you're dancing around.  Out with it,” she demanded.

        “Saucy wench,” he muttered under his breath.  More loudly he said, “The doctor was relieved that no harm had come to . . . our child.”

        Belle stared at him blankly.  “I beg your pardon?”

        “Our child,” he repeated, studying her face for any sign that she’d known beforehand.

        “I heard that part, Robbie.  What child?” she asked, her voice rising in irritation.

        “You, luv, are carrying our child,” he said, a crooked grin splitting his handsome face.  “Why don't you look happy about it?”

        Belle's hands fanned out over her flat stomach and she smiled hesitantly.  “Of course, I'm happy.  It's just come as a bit of a shock.”  She bit gently on her lower lip, tilting her head as she peeked at him from beneath her lashes.  “Are _you_ happy?” she asked nervously.

        “Ecstatic.”

        Belle smiled and reached for his hand.  “Come lie down with me.”

        He hesitated, resisting the slight tug of her hand.  “I don't want to hurt you.”

        “I'm not asking you to make love to me, Robbie.  I need you to lie down with me.  If I have to suffer up here in bed all day recuperating, the least you can do is suffer with me,” she pouted.  “For better or worse, remember? Well this is part of the worst, so suck it up.”

        Robert climbed onto the bed, trying not to jostle her too much, and gathered her in his arms.  “Belle, lying in bed with you all day is not how I would describe suffering.  Watching you lying in bed near death, however, is.”

        “Robbie?” she asked, pressing her face into his neck.  “What's been done with Auggie's body?”

        “Everything's been taken care of.  He was buried in the cemetery at Sheffield.  I thought you might want to have him close even though things ended badly between you,” Robert said, stroking her back soothingly.

        “I loved him, Robbie.  All he ever did was make one bad decision after another and I overlooked it.  Maybe if I hadn't, I could've saved him.”

        “Don't you dare blame yourself.  He was responsible for himself and his own actions.  This had nothing to do with you,” he said, tipping her chin up so he could kiss away her tears.  “It's not your fault.”

        Belle pressed her lips just below his ear and he shivered.  “I want to go home, Robbie.”

        “We are home,” he whispered, his eyes closing as her love washed over him in a gentle touch.

        “No, luv, home to Sheffield.”  She kissed, his neck and along his collarbone.  “I want to go home and make love in our own bed.  I want to go swimming in the lake with you.  I want to walk in the garden and eat chocolates and kiss you under the stars,” she murmured, each statement accompanied by a kiss.

        “Belle, you're going to pop your stitches,” he said as she popped open the top button of his shirt with her teeth.

        “You want me to stop?” she asked breathlessly, knowing in her heart that he didn't.  She could feel his desire just as clearly as her own.

        “Yes.”

        “Liar.”

        “I don't want to hurt you.”

        “You won't.”

        “There's always a chance and I don't want to risk it.”

        “Please?” she asked softly against his lips.  “Just because I’m injured doesn’t mean we can’t touch…and kiss…and other things,” she teased.

        Robert didn't answer, Belle's hand drifting lower over his hip.

        “I love you,” she whispered, biting another button.

        “Love you more.”

       

X*X*X*X*X

 

        _“Belle!”_

_“Yes, luv?”_

_“Where are you?”_

_“Find me,”_ she teased, ducking behind a hedge in the garden.  The same hedge Robert and Jefferson had hidden behind while eavesdropping on Abigail months before.  It was hard to believe that they’d been married a mere three months.

        Belle peeked over the hedge, frowning.  She could feel his excitement, his passion.  He should be in the courtyard by now.  She shrieked as his arms slid around her waist from behind.  He was getting better at sneaking up on her.

        “I win,” he breathed against her ear, nipping at her lobe and sending a shiver through her.

        “Yes, I win,” she giggled, nodding her head vigorously.

        “What?” he asked, smiling against the curve of her neck.

        “I have your arms around me, so I win.  That _was_ the goal in our little game, wasn’t it?” she teased.

        “I thought we were playing for a box of chocolates,” he said, his hand rubbing absently against her still flat belly.

        Belle stilled and laid her head back on his shoulder, an unreadable smile on her face.  “I had no idea that when I lost everything of my old life and came to this country that I was going to end up thanking August.”

        “How so?”

        “My mama said that everything happens for a reason.  If August hadn’t dragged me here, I never would’ve met you.”

        Robert turned her in his embrace and kissed the corner of her mouth.  “If I remember correctly, you didn’t like me at first.”

        “I didn’t,” she whispered against his lips.

        “What changed your mind?”

        “I felt your heart,” she said, tangling her hands in the hair at his nape.  “I felt your love,” she said, drawing his lips to hers. 

        “And our chocolate kisses in the garden?”

        “Oh, yes, my love.  Kisses are always better with chocolate.”

       

                       

THE END…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, no actually, it’s not the end. Stay tuned for Emma and Jefferson’s story in the sequel “Tea Cakes and Secrets”. Coming soon!!! Seriously…like next Saturday lol. I can’t thank you all enough for your support and comments and reviews and kudos and likes and favs and all that jazz. Without you all, really, why would I be writing? I really hope you liked the ending! Can’t wait to hear what you think! Xoxoxox

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Gold may seem a little OOC with canon, but it fits my story. Hope you don’t mind too terribly. I would really love to know what you think. I will be posting a chapter of this story every weekend for those of you who would like to follow it. It’s complete, so it should be finished with the posting in a month or so. Thanks so much for reading!


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